The old man frowned slightly. As he considered who the attacker might be, an intense sense of danger suddenly rose from beneath his feet.
Without any hesitation, a flash of red light passed through his legs, and his body shot a hundred meters into the air. The next instant, hundreds of threads suddenly burst from the ground and raced toward him as if they were alive.
A closer look revealed thumb-sized spiders clinging to many of those threads.
"Spider silk... a Weaver?"
The moment he noticed those details, he understood who his attacker was.
As two spiders leaped toward him along the threads, he raised a hand and pointed in front of himself, releasing a wisp of blood mist.
The mist instantly formed into a shield, knocking the two spiders away with a clang.
Their bodies were corroded by the mist and actually began to burn.
Yet Old Man realized that the spiders had not died. What was burning was not their true bodies, but a thin layer of light covering their surfaces.
He frowned.
A Weaver's spiders could only reach the peak of Mithril Rank at most. An ordinary early Holy Spirit Rank warrior might need to spend some effort dealing with such numbers, but his casual strike just now had been enough to inflict fatal damage upon a Holy Spirit Rank expert. How could mere spiders still be alive?
Before he could figure it out, countless strands of spider silk had already struck the shield in front of him with a series of clangs.
Some of the silk had been fired from behind, but when it came within a meter of him, it was blocked by crimson mist that appeared out of thin air.
With a thought from the old man, the mist suddenly expanded. Under the corrosive