Although Ji Si looked like a scholarly gentleman, when he decided to be devious, he was downright diabolical. After figuring out that Earthlings had an unshakable faith in science, he quickly mastered how to hit them where it hurt the most.
First, he needed to give the barely “passable” monster a proper entrance. So, when the dimensional gate started to loosen, he waited calmly instead of acting preemptively.
Second, humanity needed time to recognize the monster. They needed to feel the fear it brought, understand its insatiable hunger, grasp the gravity of its threat, and, under immense pressure, figure out their place in the food chain.
Third, the monster needed enough time in the spotlight to ensure that phones, black boxes, and street cameras captured its every move. Its departure also had to leave a lasting impression, complete with blood rain, a shattered airplane, and grueling rescue efforts.
Finally, Ji Si would provide a “scientific explanation,” leaving science itself at a dead end.
For instance, Ji Si waded through the crowd until he found the exhausted and haggard Si Nuocheng, who looked like he had run miles. Despite his disheveled state, Si Nuocheng’s eyes lit up the moment he saw Ji Si, a weight visibly lifting off his shoulders.
With a hoarse voice, Si Nuocheng let out a bitter laugh. “Long time no see, Great Prophet,” he said, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. “I guess I have to admit it now—monsters like that really do exist, beyond the bounds of science.”
Armed with his newfound “scientific expertise,” Ji Si smiled gently. “Oh, it’s quite scientific. With Earth’s increasing environmental pollution, it’s highly likely for animals to mutate. I suspect it’s been affected by nuclear contamination, hence its grotesque form.”
Si Nuocheng: …
Wait a second—hadn’t he heard this line somewhere before?
Si Nuocheng chuckled in disbelief. This guy had been trying every trick in the book to get him to believe in supernatural mumbo jumbo. Yet the one time Si Nuocheng actually bought into it, he was served a scientific explanation instead? What’s the game here?
“I watched it tear through the sky with my own eyes, grab a passenger plane with one swipe. Are you telling me that was just some hologram?” Si Nuocheng shot back. “The entire city went into evacuation mode, the police were deployed, and there’s still a plane stuck on a skyscraper. What is this—a disaster movie set?”
Ji Si nodded seriously. “Yes, precisely.” He made a mental note to add this term to his vocabulary.
Si Nuocheng: …
For some reason, Ji Si’s explanation made science itself feel utterly unreliable.
Suddenly, as though struck by enlightenment—or maybe as though his brain had short-circuited—Si Nuocheng brushed the dust off his clothes and casually remarked, “That sounds exactly like something the government would say.”
“Tell me, Great Prophet Ji…” Si Nuocheng locked eyes with him and asked slowly, “In the future, will the government still have the chance to offer such scientific explanations?”
Ji Si shook his head lightly. “No. They won’t.”
A cold wind swept through, and for the first time, Si Nuocheng felt a chill pierce his bones. He stood under a crooked streetlamp, surrounded by darkness, while Ji Si, cloaked in white, radiated a faint glow amidst the heavy shadows.
Bloodstained buildings, chaotic streets, frightened crowds, frantic rescues, and strict lockdowns. Everything happening in Lingdong felt both vividly real and absurdly surreal, as though reality and nightmares had collided, leaving an inexplicable eeriness in their wake.
Perhaps today, Lingdong could suppress the spread of panic. But in the future, if even “scientific explanations” ceased to be an option, what would that signify?
For a moment, Si Nuocheng didn’t dare to pursue the thought any further.
Two monsters in one week had thoroughly shattered his worldview, leaving it in pieces too small to salvage.
At 9 PM on the 26th, all transportation in the Lingdong area was shut down. Everyone was sent home, while the rescue operation for the passenger plane continued painstakingly.
Atop the skyscraper, the plane was encased in a layer of faint white light. It hovered weightlessly, as though the massive structure had no impact on the building’s steel and concrete frame. However, its enormous size, with its belly pressed against the rooftop and no safe footing around it, greatly complicated the rescue efforts.
They didn’t dare move the plane recklessly, fearing even the slightest misstep might cost the severely injured passengers their lives. But breaking open the cabin and carrying people out to waiting helicopters seemed equally risky—what if the shaking made things worse?
Fortunately, a quick-thinking young man suggested, “The white light is still intact, and it looks stable. Why don’t we use this chance to airlift the entire plane? If the Jingdu Giant Serpent could be hauled back to port by helicopters, why can’t we tow the Lingdong plane back to the airport?”
The team agreed it was worth a shot. And indeed, the white light held firm. The plane was successfully lifted back to the airport, and only then did the mysterious glow disappear without a trace. If not for everyone witnessing this baffling event firsthand, they might’ve dismissed it as pure fantasy.
“Maybe there really are demons… and gods in this world?”
“Who’s to say there aren’t?” someone sighed. “How else do you explain what happened tonight? That massive demon, all these injured people, and then a bloody rainstorm. And there’s video evidence too. What other explanation is there?”
“Uh… leaked footage from a sci-fi disaster film called Alien Invasion?”
“… You’re a real piece of work.”
At 3 AM on the 27th, Lingdong’s public hospitals worked through the night. Over fifty critically injured patients were distributed across wards, while another thirty-something lightly injured individuals were still reeling in shock.
By dawn, no fatalities had been reported, allowing the medical staff a brief moment of relief. They began notifying patients’ families and sent samples of the monster’s blood—now contaminating the city—for testing, to ensure it posed no harm to those exposed to it. If it did, no one would dare step outside again.
Orthopedics Department, Room 742, 6:30 AM.
Yu Mingyang, with a broken left arm and leg, woke up from the searing pain. Lying in his hospital bed, encased in plaster and with his leg suspended, he burst into tears the moment he saw Si Nuocheng, as though seeing a living Buddha.
“Boss Si, I seriously thought I’d never live to see the sun again!”
Si Nuocheng placed a bag of fruit on the table and replied calmly, “It’s cloudy today. You wouldn’t have seen the sun anyway.”
Yu Mingyang: …
“Boss Si, do you know? The moment I close my eyes, all I see is that monster’s face. Even in my dreams, it’s chasing me! I swear I’m losing ten years of my life with every nap!” Yu Mingyang wailed dramatically.
Si Nuocheng responded with utmost seriousness, “If you don’t sleep, you’ll die of exhaustion.”
Yu Mingyang: …
He realized that while he’d survived this disaster, post-survival blessings weren’t in the cards. Boss Si’s attitude toward him hadn’t softened one bit—still relentless, like a rock in a cesspit: smelly and stubborn.
“I contacted your family, but Lingdong is on lockdown right now, so they can’t come,” Si Nuocheng added after a pause. “We can’t leave either, so I’ll take care of you for now.”
Yu Mingyang burst into tears again. He was more terrified of dying under Si Nuocheng’s “care” than he had been of the monster or the plane crash. This young master had never done a day’s work in his life. Him being a caretaker? Might as well see pigs climbing trees!
“But I want a gentle nurse,” Yu Mingyang whined, “long hair, white uniform, and a smile warm enough to melt hearts—like an angel.”
Si Nuocheng: … Your parents really shouldn’t worry about you. The first thing you do after waking up isn’t calling them to let them know you’re alive, but clamoring to replace your caregiver? You absolute pig hoof.
Just then, the door to the hospital room opened.
In stepped Ji Si, dressed in immaculate white, his long hair flowing like a saint descending from heaven. His smile was so radiant it could warm the coldest soul. His eyes swept over the tear-streaked Yu Mingyang and the indifferent Si Nuocheng before he spoke. “I think I heard someone mention me. Was there a request for my care?”
Si Nuocheng: …
Yu Mingyang: … A m-male nurse?
Wait, no. That face! He’d seen it before!
Before Si Nuocheng could even introduce them, Yu Mingyang eagerly “reconnected” with his supposed old acquaintance. “Hey, it’s you! I remember now—Hu Feng Town, on the bus. You were in the back seat telling fox spirit stories to that kid!”
“Right, I’m Yu Mingyang.”
“I’m Ji Si,” he replied with a soft smile. “Ji as in propriety, Si as in vigilance, a name to endure for eternity.”
Yu Mingyang froze for a moment, his instincts screaming that he’d just walked into a minefield. But who was he? A professional survivalist under Boss Si, someone who had grown strong by groveling skillfully. Compliments? Child’s play.
“What a cultured name!” Yu Mingyang gushed. “Unlike mine, which was supposed to mean ‘renowned across the seas.’ But thanks to my phone’s cursed autocorrect, the characters got messed up. My dad said, ‘Forget it, fame isn’t meant for you anyway,’ and left it wrong on purpose.”
Yu Mingyang kept babbling, unknowingly dragging Si Nuocheng into the pit. “Boss Si’s name was pretty casually chosen too.”
Si Nuocheng’s alarm bells rang instantly. He grabbed an apple, ready to shove it into Yu Mingyang’s mouth—but it was too late.
“Boss Si’s name came from Uncle’s proposal to Auntie,” Yu Mingyang continued enthusiastically. “‘I promise to marry the most beautiful and graceful Shiyuhua!’ It was the ultimate romantic gesture in their circle back then!”
Ji Si blinked at Si Nuocheng. “Si, as in the one who administers, and Nuocheng, as in a promise as weighty as a city?”
Si Nuocheng: …
Slowly, Si Nuocheng put the apple back and took a deliberate bite. He decided it was time to seriously consider replacing Yu Mingyang’s caregiver.
By noon, Si Nuocheng and Ji Si left the hospital briskly, leaving Yu Mingyang lying despondently on his bed, barely tasting the food being spooned into his mouth.
At his bedside, a kindly old man, likely in his sixties, held a spoon with a gentle smile. “Come on, young man. Open wide! Just one more bite.”
Tears welled up in Yu Mingyang’s eyes. “Grandpa, my right hand isn’t broken—I can feed myself! Please…”
“No way,” the old man said firmly. “The young boss told me I’d get a bonus for feeding you this entire bucket of rice personally. Oh, and if you need the bathroom, I get extra pay for that too!”
Yu Mingyang: …
You’re ruthless, Si Nuocheng. Ruthless!
While locked-down Lingdong remained in an eerie calm before the storm, the rest of the world was stepping directly into its center.
By 9 PM on the 26th, short clips of the Lingdong Monster spread across the internet like wildfire, thriving in the gaps of cyberspace. Without any promotion, the footage rapidly gained traction and viewership.
People scrolling aimlessly through Weibo clicked out of curiosity, assuming it was some gimmicky short film. Instead, what greeted them was shockingly lifelike footage.
The scenes were unmistakably from Lingdong: the cityscape, the deafening roars of the beast, and an unending cacophony of screams and sobs. The footage was shaky, the lighting inconsistent, but the clarity of the video and audio was disarmingly authentic.
“If I die today,” a trembling voice cried in the recording, “please tell my parents I love them…” The sobbing escalated, unstoppable. “It’s a monster!”
The camera jerked upward, zooming in, and finally focused. The figure in the sky became clear: a grotesquely massive monster holding a flaming passenger plane in its claws, roaring down at the earth.
“ROAR—” The sound reverberated through the screen, sending chills down viewers’ spines.
“Holy sh*t! This can’t be real, can it?”
“Someone, please tell me which sci-fi movie this is from!”
“Coordinates: Lingdong. The monster is real. The whole city is stained red.” [Attached photo]
In no time, the internet exploded.
Author’s Note:
PS:
Yu Mingyang: I just wanted to wake up and scroll Weibo, but… huh? Where’s my phone?
Si Nuocheng: You weren’t going to call home anyway, so I confiscated it. But… huh? Where’s the phone I left on the table?
Ji Si: It wasn’t being used, so I borrowed it to make a prophecy.
Si Nuocheng: …
