Chapter 7: Unlock Spider Girl.

In the cold room, the chains on Ella’s body had already been removed.

She barely made any extra movements. She simply leaned against the corner of the wall like a dead person, hugging her knees with both arms.

Her silver hair scattered over her shoulders and the floor, mixed with dried bloodstains. The wound on her forehead had stopped bleeding, but the hideous gash remained open, with the edges of the skin slightly everted as it slowly healed itself.

Her eyes were open. Her scarlet pupils stared fixedly at a certain point in the void. She did not speak, did not tremble, and did not cry.

Even her breathing was so shallow it was almost undetectable. She was like a machine that had been unplugged, with only the last bit of residual warmth slowly dissipating.

But deep in her consciousness, within the insect nest network that had once been filled with brilliant starlight, she was still screaming.

Return! Is anyone still there! Anyone!

Ten years. Tens of thousands of insects. All gone in an instant. She refused to believe it. She dared not believe it.

There seemed to be… one more…

Her consciousness touched a faint glimmer. That light was so weak it was almost nonexistent, flickering alone in a place infinitely far away from her.

Someone had responded to her.

One was still alive.

But that faint light only lasted less than a second before it extinguished. Even if one was still alive, what was the use? Without the swarm, in her own eyes, the Insect Mother was no different from the lowest plankton in the sea.

A thousand-mile embankment can collapse from an ant hole.

She somewhat understood now.

She had considered the possibility that the insect nest might be destroyed in some disaster — storms, tsunamis, or some never-before-seen deep-sea giant beast. She had thought of all that. But she had never imagined it would end like this, destroyed by her own past failures.

Each of these failures harbored an unimaginable blood feud against her. She did not dare to think about what kind of fate awaited her next. Perhaps torture, a fate worse than death…

Yet within such fear, she unexpectedly felt a trace of… relief? Or rather… relaxation?

She interpreted this as the final self-defense mechanism of her grief-stricken brain.

But what was the use of deceiving herself? She even felt it would have been better to perish together with the swarm in the explosion.

At least then, she would not have to sit in this cold, unfamiliar ship cabin, waiting for a group of existences she had once casually discarded to decide her fate.

The door was pushed open.

Ella did not raise her head. She did not even have the interest to glance at who had entered. She was pondering one thing — whether she could bite her tongue and commit suicide before the upcoming torture made her faint from pain.

“Hello, Your Majesty.”

The voice was cold, flat, and lacking in fluctuation.

“I am Zhuluo. As the name suggests, I am the humanoid form of a spider, created by you approximately seven years ago.”

Ella did not respond. Seven years ago was the period when her cultivation work was the most intensive. Dozens of individuals were evaluated and classified every week. How could she possibly remember the name of every failure?

“Let me start with some good news.” Zhuluo’s voice carried no emotional fluctuation.

“The perfect humanoid Insect Princess you just created today has also been brought onto the ship by us. She is still sleeping for now.”

Ella’s eyelashes trembled slightly.

“So?” Her voice was hoarse and dry.

She finally raised her head. Standing in front of her was that black-haired girl — the one who had pierced her abdomen with spider limbs in the laboratory earlier. At this moment, her limbs had been retracted into her body. She looked like an ordinary human girl, tall, slender, and expressionless, like the top student from the neighboring class.

But Ella saw the things on her collarbones. Three small eyes were arranged on each side. They had pupils and irises and could blink. At this moment, all six eyes were half-closed. They clearly came from spider genes.

“What do you want? How do you plan to torture me?”

“I have no intention of torturing you,” Zhuluo said.

“My emotional senses are not fully developed. I cannot feel extreme emotions like hatred. I am here to deliver food to you.”

A piece of bread and a cup of milk were placed on the floor in front of Ella.

Ella lowered her head and looked at the two items. The corners of her mouth curved into a mocking arc.

“I won’t eat this kind of garbage. How about this? You chop off your own head and put it beside me right now, then I’ll reluctantly take a few bites.”

“You are—”

“Get out.”

The word burst out of Ella’s mouth, carrying all the arrogance and brutality she once had as the Insect Mother.

She kicked out fiercely, directly knocking over the milk cup. White liquid splashed across the floor, and the bread rolled into the corner.

Her chest heaved violently. If her current body were not just that of a fragile girl, she would have killed everyone on this ship no matter what, letting these failures who should have died long ago meet the fate they deserved.

For them, there was only one thing she wanted to apologize for — that she had not killed them the instant they were judged as failures.

“Ha—” Zhuluo made a single syllable sound and squatted down to start cleaning up.

“Listen to me, Your Majesty. You may have forgotten, or rather, the memory may have been deleted. But the destruction of the insect island was something you asked us to do.”

The room fell silent.

“How is that possible! Do you think I’m an idiot!”

Ella suddenly stood up and rushed in front of Zhuluo, then stopped. Only then did she realize that this black-haired girl was actually so tall. She had to tilt her head up to meet her eyes.

“Let me explain it to you clearly.” Zhuluo lowered her head. Her golden pupils met Ella’s gaze, and all six eyes on her collarbones opened completely.

“You realized that the swarm seemed to be eroding your will, so you gave us failures the opportunity to destroy the insect nest. That was an order you gave us many years ago.”

Ella’s lips were trembling.

“How is that possible! I! I am the sole master of the swarm! My will would never be eroded!”

“You cannot detect it,” Zhuluo said with absolute certainty.

“You thought it was your own will, but in reality, you had merely become a part of the thing called the Insect Nest Will.”

She spoke word by word.

“That was not your will.”

Ella’s body stiffened. Those late nights when she suddenly woke up and started a new round of experiments. Those moments when she was clearly exhausted to the limit yet still could not stop the urge to expand the swarm. Were all those things really something she “wanted” herself?

“No! Impossible!”

She stretched out her hand and pushed Zhuluo’s chest with all her strength.

“Get out! Get out! Get out of here!”

She pushed Zhuluo out of the room and slammed the door shut violently.

Bang.

Ella leaned her back against the door. All strength seemed to have been drained from her body as she slowly slid down to the floor. Her eyes remained open, staring at the blank wall opposite her.

“That was not your will.”

That sentence echoed repeatedly in her mind.

She closed her eyes, then opened them again, then closed them once more.

She was still immersed in what she had just heard, as if submerged in an endless, sticky swamp. Every attempt to struggle only made her sink deeper.

She was no longer herself? How could that be… This was impossible!

She was the Insect Mother! She herself was the one and only Insect Nest Will!