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

"Let's go outside first and talk about it later."

The three of them walked up the stairs, with Zhou Lang being the last. When he reached the top of the stairs, he looked back at the lobby.

The chair was still in the same place, and the old man was still sitting on it, though he no longer had the booklet in his hand, but his posture remained unchanged.

When the light shone on him, the old man's lips—

Never mind, it's probably just the lighting.

Zhou Lang followed, but the stairs were very long, and it took him five minutes to get back to the ground.

The downtime after the instance ends is only three days.

Zhou Lang spent two days organizing the information, going through everything in the manor instance, including the diary and the small bottle containing the clear liquid. He didn't open the bottle; he left it there, intending to use it later when needed.

On the third day, a new dungeon entrance appeared.

The location this time was in the city center, in front of a hospital building. The building was not new, and the exterior walls were somewhat mottled. The sign read "Renkang Hospital" in an old-fashioned Song typeface, with some of the strokes peeling off.

Zhou Lang stood in front of the entrance and looked around for a while.

Hospital instance, Grade A.

It's a level higher than the last manor.

He looked at the description of the instance; the rules were very simple: follow hospital regulations and find out the truth. But what exactly the "hospital regulations" were, the description didn't explain in detail, only stating "obtain them yourself after entering."

A typical example of opaque information design is either due to system laziness or intentional.

Zhou Lang prefers the latter.

He glanced at the list of participants; this time it was longer than the last. He recognized Han Yingying, Zhao Qiang, and the boxer who survived the last dungeon—what was his name again? Everyone in the dungeon called him "Old Fist," and nobody cared about his real name.

The rest were all unfamiliar faces: an obstetrician, a young man who looked wealthy, and four or five passersby.

Han Yingying arrived first and stood by the entrance. When she saw Zhou Lang coming over, she handed him the documents in her hand. "I've compiled some publicly available information about the hospital. Take a look and see if it's useful."

Zhou Lang took it and glanced at it.

The information is limited, but there are a few key points: Renkang Hospital was founded thirty years ago by an elderly doctor named Fang Zhengde, who focused on research into a certain chronic disease. It is said that twelve years ago, he announced the development of a miracle drug, attracting a large number of patients to seek treatment. However, since then, the hospital has become closed off, rarely releasing information to the outside world. Occasionally, news leaks out, but it is always good news—extremely high cure rates and positive patient feedback.

"That's great, but there's a problem." Zhou Lang handed the documents back to her.

"Yes, and I checked, and after that period, very few patients who went in came out."

"Disappeared?"

"The official explanation is that they were transferred to another hospital, but there is no record of where they were transferred to."

As the two were talking, Zhao Qiang ran over, panting, "Wait for me—I knew you'd arrive early."

He stopped and looked at the hospital building. "This time it's a hospital? Hospitals are more terrifying than manors. At least manors are open spaces, but those corridors in hospitals..."

"Once you go inside, you'll find that the corridor is the least scary part," Zhou Lang said.

Zhao Qiang: "...Why do I not feel comforted at all by what you're saying?"

Old Fist arrived shortly after. He was in much better condition than the last time I saw him; his wounds had healed, and he was no longer limping. He saw Zhou Lang, nodded, and without saying a word, found a place to lean against and wait.

The others arrived one after another.

The OB-GYN was a woman in her forties, neatly dressed with her hair up. She introduced herself as Dr. Chen, speaking concisely and without unnecessary words. The wealthy young man, Fang Shao, entered and immediately began making a phone call, his voice low, but his expression was troubled, as if he were in some kind of predicament.

Among the random players was a middle-aged man who immediately started asking about the rules and strategies. After asking around without getting any attention, he finally turned his attention to Zhou Lang. "Brother, you seem very experienced. Could you—"

"No," Zhou Lang said.

Middle-aged man: "..."

The dungeon entrance is now open.

Once inside, the scene changes, and the hospital lobby comes into view.

It looked much the same as from the outside. There were nurses at the front desk, people coming and going in the corridor, white coats and hospital gowns mingling, the smell of disinfectant was strong, and the lighting was a cold white that made everyone's face look unhealthy and pale.

The receptionist nurse looked up. "Are you here for a medical appointment or to visit someone?"

Her voice and expression were normal, but Zhou Lang noticed that her hands were under the table and didn't move, remaining in the same position, like a prop placed there.

"I'm going to see a doctor," Zhou Lang said.

The nurse bent down and began the procedure. "We need to fill out an admission registration form. Please cooperate."

The registration form was handed over. In addition to the basic information, there was a section for "Description of Symptoms," with a line of small print next to it: Please fill in the form truthfully, otherwise it will affect the treatment effect.

Zhao Qiang leaned closer and whispered, "What illness do we need to fill out?"

"Whatever." Zhou Lang wrote "Insomnia" in the "Symptom Description" column and sent it back.

The nurse collected the forms and pushed a card towards me. "Your room is 312, third floor. The elevator is on the left, and the stairs are on the right. Please note the hospital regulations are as follows—"

She took out a rule sheet from under the table.

The rule sheet was printed with small font, but the entries were very clear:

1. You must not leave the ward after 10 p.m.

2. Do not enter areas marked with "No Entry".

3. Do not interfere with the work of medical staff.

4. No loud noises are allowed in the corridors.

5. If you experience any discomfort, please inform the nurse immediately and do not attempt to treat it yourself.

6. Daily ward rounds will be held at 7:00 AM and 9:00 PM. Your cooperation is appreciated.

Zhou Lang folded the rule sheet and put it in his pocket.

Han Yingying whispered beside him, "Did you notice? Rule number six: rounds at nine at night, and no one is allowed to leave the ward at ten. There's only one hour in between."

"I've noticed."

"Furthermore, Article 5 states that we cannot handle things ourselves, which means that all treatments must be handled by medical staff. In other words, our every move is under their control."

"right."

Zhao Qiang interrupted from the other side, saying, "Can you guys not be so calm when you talk? It's making me nervous."

Zhou Lang handed him the room key, "Go find your room."

Zhao Qiang took it, looked at it, "312, third floor..." He looked up at the elevator on the left, then at the stairs on the right, "I'll take the stairs."

Why?

"If something happens in the elevator, there's no way to escape."

Zhou Lang thought for a moment, "That makes sense."

The three of them walked up the stairs to the third floor.

The stairwell was much quieter than the lobby. There were potted plants on the platforms between each floor. The leaves were very green, but if you looked closely, there were some strange patterns on the leaves. They didn't look like they grew naturally; they looked more like they were carved on.

On the second-floor platform, Zhou Lang paused and glanced into the corridor.

At the end of the corridor was a door with a "No Entry" sign on it, but light shone through the crack in the door—a warm yellow light, completely different from the cold white light in the corridor.