Chapter Ten: The Queen Ant Boss

Having just leveled up, Li Yunfei, now at full strength, wasted no time. The five newly earned attribute points were distributed as before: three to strength, two to agility. His stats now read: Strength 20 (10), Agility 16 (8), Constitution 15 (10), and Stamina 10 (7). Both strength and agility had reached double that of an average human—on par with the most elite special forces operatives. While his constitution and stamina lagged slightly behind, it was only a matter of time before they caught up; within a few days, barring any surprises, they would be on par.

Feeling the ant-leg blades grow lighter in his grip, Li Yunfei’s confidence swelled. Clutching both blades, he strode to the entrance of the ant nest and peered inside. Strangely, the tunnel was not shrouded in darkness as one might expect. Some unknown light source illuminated the passages, not quite as bright as day but clear enough to see the surroundings—much like the waning light of evening outside. This, too, must have been the work of the system’s unfathomable power, rendering his tactical flashlight obsolete.

The tunnel was empty for the moment. Li Yunfei patted the ant-armor on his body, reassured by its heavy thud, and boldly stepped into the nest. The little fox followed closely, step for step, ears perked high and eyes scanning warily from side to side. At the first hint of danger, she would slip away, never to burden her master or become a liability.

This colony had been nearly wiped out; gone were the swarms of ants. Any ambushes were scattered and easily dealt with. The only real annoyance was the web of side passages branching off the main tunnel. Most of these sloped upwards, and with no idea where the queen was hiding, Li Yunfei was forced to search each one in turn.

The layout of the nest resembled the character for “not”: a central shaft plunging downward, flanked by six horizontal, upward-slanting side passages. Remarkably clever for such tiny creatures—this design ensured that when rainwater poured into the nest, it flowed straight down the central shaft, while the ants lived safely in the higher side passages, untouched by the rising water.

After wandering through the nest for some time, Li Yunfei checked his phone. He had been inside for over two hours; it was nearly noon. His satiety had dropped to 26%, stamina to 53%, and he felt the pangs of hunger. The little fox’s ears drooped limply—she, too, was hungry.

Entering yet another cavern and dispatching the few ants within, Li Yunfei said to the little fox, “Let’s rest for a bit and have something to eat.”

“Yiyi—” The little fox’s ears immediately perked up, tongue lolling out, fluffy tail wagging with delight.

Li Yunfei chuckled, crouched to rub her head, then drew a folding table from his system inventory and set it up. He placed the fox’s bowl on the table, sliced some chicken, and cracked three eggs. With her meal ready, he lifted the fox onto the table to eat.

Since their bond, Li Yunfei could no longer regard her as merely a cute pet. She was his companion, fighting by his side, sharing life and death. Without her presence, enduring the endless slaughter of the dungeon alone would not only be dull and lonely, but also oppressive. Over time, such solitude could erode the mind. Yet with the little fox by his side, her adorable appearance and sweet, soft cries kept the warmest, gentlest part of his heart from ever hardening.

He pulled out a camp stool and sat beside her, taking out a steaming bowl of noodles he’d prepared that morning. The system inventory suspended time; whatever went in came out unchanged. The two ate lunch in the cavern, then rested until Li Yunfei’s stamina recovered to over 90%. Only then did they set off once more.

After another hour’s search, Li Yunfei finally entered a vast cavern at the end of a side passage. There, he saw an enormous ant: the front half as large as a water buffalo, its limbs as thick as his arms, and the abdomen behind as massive as an elephant. Above its head glowed the words “Ant Queen,” with a long health bar beneath.

“At last, I’ve found you.” Li Yunfei’s spirits soared. Defeat the queen—this final boss—and the dungeon would be cleared.

He turned and ran back; the queen was surrounded by a swarm of worker and soldier ants, some thirty or forty in all. He would need to deal with these minions before facing the queen herself.

In just over ten minutes, the passageway was littered with ant corpses and severed heads. After tidying up, Li Yunfei returned toward the queen’s cavern. The chamber was over sixty meters across, more than enough space for maneuvering. Behind the queen lay a dense pile of ant eggs.

“Honghong, stay out here and wait for me,” he called to the little fox, then crept along the cavern wall, circling toward the queen’s flank.

The queen struggled to turn her massive body to follow him, but her huge abdomen was a cumbersome burden—she moved with great difficulty. She had never needed to roam; food was brought to her by the workers. Her sole purpose was to lay eggs.

Suddenly, seeing that she could not keep up, the queen opened her jaws and unleashed a torrent of colorless, pungent liquid, drenching the space where Li Yunfei had stood. He leapt forward, narrowly avoiding a faceful of the noxious spray.

A harsh hiss filled the air as the liquid struck the ground, billowing smoke and eating into the stone, leaving a deep pit.

“So this is… ant acid?”

Indeed, it was formic acid—ant venom—far more potent than any ordinary variety. Formic acid, a colorless, acrid, corrosive chemical, can cause blisters and burns on the skin. But what the queen spat was no simple irritant; a single touch would burn through his armor, perhaps even his bones.

At last, Li Yunfei understood the source of the “corrosive poison damage” he’d been warned about—this was the queen’s ultimate attack.

Fortunately, he carried ant repellent, an item capable of counteracting the queen’s venomous spray. Still, he had no desire to experience the pain of being dissolved by super-ant acid.

Only now did Li Yunfei truly grasp the meaning of the words “dungeon monster.” To mutate is to become monstrous; to gain intelligence is to become refined; to take on form is to become demonic.

From the moment he had entered the dungeon, he had subconsciously believed these ants were simply scaled-up versions of their ordinary selves—or perhaps that he himself had been shrunk. He thought the ants were just ants, nothing more. But now, seeing the system label them “dungeon monsters,” he realized they no longer belonged to the realm of ordinary ants.