Lost in the Otherworld

Bang!

At the same moment, a powerful arm burst through the door.

This was no human arm—broad, muscular, bronze, its bulging sinews like forged steel. The back of the massive hand was covered in sinister, textured scales, and the four sharp claws, each several centimeters long, glistened like deadly blades.

As Gao Yang dove to shield Pang Jun, the razor-sharp talons followed through the shattered door, slashing his left arm.

Sensing blood, the claws trembled in a brief, frenzied thrill before furiously hacking at the door. In mere moments, the once-sturdy wood splintered like fragile paper beneath the relentless assault.

The beast entered the room, its feet crushing the scattered wood shards, creating a soft yet ominous sound.

The main light had already been turned off, leaving the room dim, oppressive, and bathed in an eerie crimson glow.

"Three… There are three… Ha… Ha ha…” Aunt He’s voice rang out, disturbingly excited, tinged with an inexplicable sorrow and overwhelming gratitude. “They’re all mine… all mine…”

Gao Yang lay behind the waterbed, his arm throbbing in agony. He covered the trembling Pang Jun’s mouth with one hand, not daring to make a sound.

Soon, Gao Yang's fingers grew damp—Pang Jun’s tears of terror.

In the dim light, Gao Yang glanced up at the ceiling mirror and finally caught sight of their enemy.

It was indeed "Aunt He," a middle-aged woman, appearing to be in her fifties, wearing a cleaning uniform. Her body was gaunt and aged, with a head and torso that still resembled a human’s, but her limbs had transformed grotesquely—overgrown and monstrously muscular, shredding through her sleeves and pant legs in a disturbing display of imbalance.

Step by step, she approached the doorway, her body trembling with an uncontrollable excitement.

Soon, a slick, dark green tail slithered out from her back.

Its emergence was slow and laborious, inching forward, dripping with thick, murky fluid, much like the amniotic fluid of childbirth.

It pressed against Aunt He's pelvic bone and spine, forcing her to bend forward under its weight.

Finally, the tail, thick as a thigh and stretching over two meters long, emerged fully, dragging along the ground with a cold, slithering hiss like that of a serpent.

Now, she looked like a true lizard-human hybrid.

Gao Yang, who had witnessed the entire transformation, was gripped by a primal fear. A wave of dizziness washed over him, accompanied by a high-pitched ringing in his ears. In truth, aside from gritting his teeth against the pain, holding his breath, and desperately wishing for a slower death, there was nothing more he could do.

He knew with certainty that he was no match for this monster.

For a moment, his mind wandered.

Gao Yang recalled the time he had killed a cockroach with a slipper.

Back then, the cockroach had darted under the bed, but Gao Yang had easily driven it out, then, with a mix of disgust and smugness, delivered the fatal blow with a sharp slap.

Now, he felt just like that tiny, hopeless cockroach.

His only hope was Qing Ling, hidden somewhere in the room.

For what seemed an eternity, the tense silence stretched on.

Maybe it had only been seven seconds—Gao Yang had lost count.

Suddenly—swish, swish, swish!

Three sharp daggers flew from the shadows, aimed straight for Aunt He's eyes.

She swiftly raised her arm to block them.

Ting, ting, ting! The blades clattered harmlessly to the ground, failing to so much as scratch her hardened arm.

But, of course, this was merely a distraction.

As Aunt He raised her arm, Qing Ling burst from the wardrobe, wielding a sword, and drove it toward her heart from the side.

Though her reaction lagged by half a beat, Aunt He was still swift. She caught the sword in both hands, her eight hardened claws grinding against the blade, sending sparks flying.

“Ha!” Qing Ling let out a low growl, channeling all the power from her legs, waist, and wrists into one explosive thrust.

Boom! Aunt He slammed into the wall, but her hands held firm to the blade, guarding her heart.

Qing Ling pressed on, forcing the sword deeper and deeper into Aunt He’s chest.

“Aaaargh!” Aunt He let out a guttural roar, a sound caught somewhere between human and beast, her tail whipping through the air with violent force, striking Qing Ling in the waist. She stumbled, her strength momentarily faltering.

Aunt He seized the opportunity, flinging Qing Ling and her weapon aside. Qing Ling crashed into the adjacent bathroom, shattering the tempered glass with a deafening smash.

The wound in Aunt He's chest was deep, but she continued to breathe heavily, her rage and agony palpable as she slowly approached the fallen Qing Ling.

Crash! A blanket flew through the air, landing squarely over Aunt He.

In the brief ten seconds that Qing Ling had fought Aunt He, Gao Yang and Pang Jun hadn’t been idle.

Pang Jun had flung the blanket, attempting to cover Aunt He, though it only bought them a moment’s reprieve. His plan was simple: block her vision, even for a second, and run.

And that’s exactly what Pang Jun did. The moment the blanket fell over Aunt He, he bolted for the door. But in his panic, with the floor covered in shattered glass and slick, viscous fluids, his feet slipped. He fell face-first, landing right in front of Aunt He.