Fabre in Sacheon’s Tang Novel - Chapter 3

Chapter 3

-BOOM!
-CRASH!
“What in the world is that now…”

Ear-splitting noise tore through the silent night, jolting me from my sleep. It had been four nights since the visitors had begun their hunt for their target. The commotion was coming from the direction of the stony mountain close by, the sound of rock grinding against rock and splitting apart reverberating in the quiet.

“Didn’t they promise to be careful? Why does it sound like a full-scale quarrying operation? Don’t they care about protecting the environment? Preserving the ecosystem is vital if anyone else hopes to gather samples here later!”

Gathering samples should be about working with nature, not obliterating it. However urgent their daughter’s plight, bringing thirty people to tear a whole habitat apart was going too far.

“Hold on, was that an explosion?”

Surviving here had taken so much of my time that I hadn’t managed to properly study this era. Since awakening in the body of an orphan and making a home in this deserted Taoist temple, my life had revolved around catching snakes and selling their hides to get by. I had estimated this was some time during the Song, Yuan, Ming, or Qing dynasties, but I couldn’t be certain.

Hearing these unnatural sounds made me question that. Blasts like that? They were anything but natural.

“When was gunpowder first developed in Zhongyuan, anyway?”

The idea surfaced as I started to make sense of it all. If their tale of a man-sized centipede was accurate, then this might not be the past I knew—it could be a completely different world.

With these thoughts swirling in my head, I resolved to visit the habitat tomorrow. I had to see with my own eyes how much damage they’d caused. Somebody needed to be a steward for this place, and they clearly weren’t going to be.

Besides, I might get lucky and find a smaller centipede for my own collection. Centipedes are incredible animals. Their multi-segmented bodies, their countless legs, their distinctive way of moving—they stand out among arthropods. Yes, this one was supposedly big enough to eat me, but I’d successfully hunted a Black Mamba once. How much worse could a giant centipede be?

Roughly an hour later:

-Shhhhhhh.

A sudden, heavy rain swept across the mountains, and as it fell, the thunderous noises of destruction gradually died away. The rainfall must have halted their activities—whatever they were doing likely involved gunpowder.

At last, I could hear the rain drumming on the roof and allow it to soothe me back to sleep.

“Is it finally over?”

-Chirp chirp.

The crickets in their jar started their song as I settled back down. The gentle rhythm of the rain and the insects’ chorus merged, and it wasn’t long before I fell back into the deep, tranquil sleep that only a quiet mountain night can bring.

***

-Pant, pant.

The warriors of the Tang family were strewn across the rocky ground, completely exhausted. The survivors lay collapsed on the stones, gulping down the rainwater that poured from the sky. Among them, Tang Cheolsan, the Poison Scholar (천독서생), was propped against a large rock, his fractured arm hastily set with a piece of bamboo.

“How is your arm?”

The question came from his own father, Mandok Shingun, the Poison God of Ten Thousand Toxins. Tang Cheolsan offered a tired smile through the rain, his face brightening with the newfound hope that filled him. His arm was broken, but they had captured the Blue-Spotted Centipede, and with it, the means to save his daughter.

“It’s just a break. I’ll be fine.”

“To imagine a creature classified as ‘low-ranked’ could be so powerful. If the rain hadn’t impaired it, we all might have been killed.”

The smile on Cheolsan’s face faded at his father’s remark.

Mandok Shingun wasn’t overstating it. The centipede had been a horror: unbelievably fast, crushingly strong, with an eerie sense for their movements even in darkness, and worst of all, a venom that melted flesh on touch.

Although the Tianxia Record of Poisonous Creatures listed the Blue-Spotted Centipede (청반오공) as a low-tier threat, it had been nothing of the sort. Its capabilities surpassed all accounts, and it had killed two of their family’s warriors, with three others nearly succumbing to its poison.

Thankfully, the lives of the poisoned were saved by a mix of realgar (웅황) and Mandok Shingun’s profound skill with toxins, which purged the venom from their systems. But had the confrontation lasted any longer, even that might not have been sufficient.

Tang Cheolsan had thrown himself into the fray to rescue one of the warriors. Despite shielding himself with defensive internal energy, the centipede’s monstrous force had broken his arm with one blow.

The renowned daggers and concealed weapons of the Tang family proved completely ineffective against the centipede’s armored shell. It was only when Mandok Shingun seized a rare chance to crush its head that the creature was finally defeated.

“Well, we have it now,” Mandok Shingun said, his voice lightening. “Let’s see how powerful its inner core is. With any luck, it will be sufficient to cure our Huaeun.”

Through the curtain of rain, father and son looked at the giant centipede’s motionless form. Its colossal body lay on its back, legs trembling faintly.

Mandok Shingun gave a hard smile as he moved forward, his focus fixed on the creature’s head. The fight was done, and now it was time to take the reward they had paid so dearly to obtain.

***

-Shwaa…

By morning, the rain was still falling.

This season, as I’d noted over my years here, was the rainy period—long spells of heavy precipitation broken up by intense showers. The dark, crowded clouds and the persistent, thick rain indicated it would be days before things cleared up.

I had intended to survey the centipede habitat the Tang family warriors had probably destroyed, but with rain this heavy, venturing out was too risky. Living by myself meant I couldn’t afford to get ill; if I did, who would look after my cherished animals?

As a breeder, maintaining your own health is part of caring for your creatures. Responsibility is more than a concept—it’s a daily practice.

Two days later, the rain finally stopped.

-Drip, drip.

Unfamiliar tropical birds sang from the roof of the abandoned dojo, and beads of water hung from the broken eaves, sparkling in the morning sun.

The sunlight’s return had awakened all sorts of life. Birds and insects created a noisy, chaotic symphony in the air. For two days, I’d been eager to go see the habitat the Tang warriors had disturbed. Today, I would get my opportunity.

The Blue-Spotted Centipede (靑斑蜈蚣). An enormous centipede with blue markings—a species previously unknown, or so the Tang family had said. As someone who has always been fascinated by arthropods, I couldn’t let this chance slip away.

I’d used the rainy days to get ready. I crafted a simple bag from woven straw and small clay pots to hold my gear. I made torches from sticks soaked in oil, in case my search took me into a cave. Large centipedes, like the Scolopendra gigantea—the Amazonian or Peruvian giant centipede—are known to climb cave walls to prey on bats and birds. It was best to be prepared.

“All set. Let’s go see what’s left.”

I hoisted the bag over my shoulder and started toward the rocky hills to the west.

After fording rain-swollen streams, I reached the small hill where the Tang family had conducted their search. The scene that met my eyes was worse than I’d pictured.

The mountainside appeared as if it had been struck by an explosion. Massive rocks had slid down the slope, carving deep scars into the earth. The middle of the hill had been gouged out, with murky water still seeping down to the bottom.

“Incredible… they didn’t hold back at all.”

Cautiously, I made my way up the slick rocks. The rainwater made the ascent dangerous, and I had no desire to take a fall. My main objective was to evaluate the destruction, but a part of me also hoped to find some trace of the centipede.

After a half-hour of climbing, I arrived at the ravaged midsection of the hill. As I picked through the rubble, something trapped between two stones caught my eye—a glimpse of deep red.

Gently, I worked it loose.

It was a leg.

A vivid red, segmented leg almost 40 centimeters long, as thick as a large coin.

“Is… is this actually real?”

My heart began to pound. I’d been doubtful of the Tang family’s stories about a man-eating centipede. Arthropods and insects grow large in high-oxygen conditions—something that hadn’t occurred since the Carboniferous period, when dragonflies had wingspans exceeding a meter.

But holding the leg, my skepticism vanished.

If this leg was from the Blue-Spotted Centipede, then the creature must have been truly huge—more than large enough to consume a person.

-Gulp.

Should I go back?

The thought occurred to me. No find is worth your life, particularly not against something this terrifying. But my curiosity was too fierce to suppress. If there were other, smaller specimens in the area, I might at least catch sight of one.

My investigation led me to a partly caved-in burrow, its opening just big enough for someone to squeeze through.

“This has to be it…”

The hole exuded menace. Centipedes are usually solitary and territorial, but not every species behaves the same. If this burrow had belonged to the owner of that leg, there could be more inside—or it could be vacant.

Empty would mean letdown but security. Occupied would mean peril, and potentially far worse.

After a short battle with myself, I lit my torch.

-Whoosh.

The flame caught, throwing light into the damp, narrow passage.

I crouched down and crawled inside, the torchlight casting shifting shadows on the earthen walls. The air turned stale as I went deeper, the smell of dampness intensifying. After crawling roughly five meters, the tunnel opened into a hollow chamber.

I stood up and raised the torch, scanning the ceiling for any hidden threats.

The chamber was silent, but my senses were screaming.

In the center of the hollow, a mound shimmered in the light. At first, I assumed it was a trick of the light, but as I drew nearer, its form became distinct.

A pile of round objects, each the size of a handball, shone with a golden, polished gleam.

“Jackpot!”

My voice reverberated through the chamber.

Eggs.

Dozens of smooth, yellow eggs heaped together in the center of the chamber—undoubtedly the offspring of the Blue-Spotted Centipede.