A bizarre and terrifying experience; I messed up the dungeon world.

At the end of the stairs was a narrow passageway.

The green light from the oil lamp could only illuminate three or four meters ahead; beyond that, it was all thick darkness. Iron chains hung on the walls, rusty and some with scraps of cloth wrapped around them, indicating that they had been used to bind something.

The air was filled with a rotten, sweet, and fishy smell.

Zhao Qiang covered his nose: "This smell..."

"Don't speak," Zhou Lang said in a low voice.

Every few meters along both sides of the passageway was an iron door, each with a small window sealed shut with iron bars. Zhou Lang raised his oil lamp and peered through one of the windows—

Inside was a stone chamber less than five square meters in size. Bones were scattered on the floor.

Human bones.

Han Yingying saw it too, her face turned pale, but she didn't say anything.

"This place used to imprison people," Zhao Qiang said, his throat dry.

Zhou Lang didn't stop and continued forward. There were twelve doors in the passageway, and each stone chamber contained skeletons. Some of the bones still bore bite marks, the teeth marks fine and dense, unlike those made by human teeth.

At the end of the passageway, a fork in the road appeared. The passageway on the left sloped downwards, while the passageway on the right stretched straight ahead.

"Which way?" Zhao Qiang asked.

Zhou Lang crouched down to examine the ground. There were drag marks on the floor tiles of the left passage, scratch lines, dark in color—those were dried bloodstains.

The passageway on the right was clean and tidy.

"Left side." Zhou Lang stood up.

Zhao Qiang opened his mouth, but swallowed back the question, "Can we go to the right?"

The three of them walked down the left-hand passage. The slope became steeper and steeper, and the temperature dropped accordingly, their breath turning into white mist.

After walking for about three minutes, the passage suddenly opened up.

Before me lay a vast underground space, at least the size of a basketball court. The green light from the oil lamps wasn't bright enough; I could only make out a small area nearby.

But this small area is scary enough.

A huge circular pattern was drawn on the ground, the lines drawn with dark red paint—or rather, blood. The pattern was extremely complex, with all sorts of twisted symbols intertwined, enough to make one dizzy if looked at for too long.

A coffin is placed in the very center of the circular pattern.

The coffin was black, the wood coated with a layer of lacquer that gleamed with a dark sheen under the green light. Seven iron nails, each as thick as an adult's finger, were driven into the coffin lid.

"Is this the secret of the manor?" Han Yingying stared at the coffin.

Zhou Lang didn't rush closer. He held up the oil lamp and looked around, finding several dilapidated tables in a corner of the space. On the tables were bottles and jars, and an open notebook.

He walked over and flipped through the notebook. The pages were yellowed and brittle, the handwriting was messy, and the ink had bled in many places.

"On the 37th day, the experiment failed. The third servant died. It doesn't accept adult bodies..."

"On the 52nd day, a different baby appeared. It began to respond..."

"On the 71st day, it woke up. But not completely. It needs more..."

The rest of the text was obscured by large patches of blood and was illegible. The last page contained only one sentence:

"I was wrong. I shouldn't have summoned it."

Zhou Lang stuffed the notebook into his pocket.

"What kind of tricks did the original owner of this villa play?" Zhao Qiang leaned over, took one look, and then dared not look any longer.

"A summoning ritual." Zhou Lang pointed to the circular pattern on the ground. "He summoned something, and then he lost control of it."

"So those ghosts in the manor..."

"They might all be his experimental subjects."

Han Yingying walked to the coffin and circled it. "There are words on the coffin lid."

Zhou Lang walked over and shone the oil lamp on it to examine it. A line of small characters was engraved on the edge of the coffin lid:

"The slumbering cannot be awakened unless blood is paid for with blood."

The three exchanged a glance.

Zhao Qiang was the first to speak up: "Can't we just not wake it up? The mission didn't say we had to open the coffin."

"The mission is to investigate the secrets of the basement." Zhou Lang looked at the coffin. "The secret is inside."

"You're going to drive?" Zhao Qiang's voice rose an octave.

"No rush." ​​Zhou Lang walked around the coffin and tapped the side of it. The sound was hollow, but on the third tap, a muffled thud came from inside.

It looked like something had turned over.

Zhao Qiang took three steps back.

Zhou Lang instead pressed his ear against it to listen.

"Are you crazy?" Zhao Qiang's face turned green.

"Shh—" Zhou Lang waved his hand and continued listening. An extremely faint sound came from the coffin, like breathing, or some kind of low-frequency vibration.

He straightened up. "There are living ones inside."

"Alive?" Han Yingying frowned. "A person?"

"It's hard to say." Zhou Lang took out his chainsaw. "But since we're here—"

Before he could finish speaking, the seven iron nails on the coffin suddenly popped out on their own.

Nails shot in all directions. Zhou Lang grabbed Han Yingying and dodged to the side. Zhao Qiang was lucky; two nails flew just past his ears.

The coffin lid popped open with a "bang".

A hand reached out from the coffin.

The hand was so white it was almost translucent, revealing a network of bluish-purple veins underneath. The five fingers were thin and long, with jet-black nails, each at least three centimeters long.

Hands rested on the edge of the coffin, then arms, shoulders, and head.

A woman sat up from the coffin.

Or rather, she used to be a woman.

She wore a long dress whose original color was no longer discernible, her hair flowing down and obscuring most of her face. On the half of her face that was visible, the skin clung tightly to her bones, almost devoid of flesh. One eye was closed, the other eye—

There were no eyeballs. A cloud of black mist swirled slowly within the empty eye sockets.

"Alas--"

She made a muffled sound, turning her neck at an abnormal angle to face the three of them.

[Warning: You have encountered a "Sleeper," danger level S.]

[Recommendation: Escape immediately.]

The moment the system notification popped up, Zhao Qiang had already started backing away.

Zhou Lang didn't back down. He stared at the thing, clutching the chainsaw, his mind racing.

S-class.

The difficulty of this manor instance is only C-level, but there's an S-level monster hiding in the basement?

No. He recalled the contents of the notes—this thing was summoned; it wasn't part of the normal configuration for this instance. It was an extra creation concocted by the manor owner in his foolishness.

"We can't fight," Zhou Lang decided. "Run."

He turned and left, grabbing Han Yingying with one hand and Zhao Qiang with the other.

But the woman was much faster than expected.

"hiss--"

With a whooshing sound, the woman's arm stretched out. Not metaphorically, but physically—her arm stretched out like a rubber band, fingers spread, reaching directly for Zhou Lang's back.

Han Yingying turned around and saw it.

She instinctively shouted, "It can't reach us!"

The moment the words left his mouth, an invisible force rippled out.

The hand stopped.

The hand was almost touching Zhou Lang's back when it stopped abruptly a few centimeters away, as if blocked by something.

Zhou Lang seized the opportunity to lead the two into the passage.

Han Yingying was stunned for a moment.