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

Zhou Lang opened the door; the corridor was empty, but he knew that the ghosts were in the darkness.

He lit the oil lamp.

The green light illuminated the corridor, and the figures of the ghosts immediately appeared.

They stood densely packed in the corridor, some perched on the ceiling, some hanging on the walls, all staring motionlessly at Zhou Lang.

Zhou Lang took a deep breath and walked forward, holding up the oil lamp.

The ghosts automatically made way for him, but their eyes remained fixed on him.

When he went downstairs, he saw Zhao Qiang and Han Yingying already waiting on the first floor.

"You guys..." Zhou Lang was somewhat surprised.

"We agreed to do it together," Zhao Qiang said, his voice trembling but his eyes firm.

"Besides, it's too dangerous for you to go alone," Han Yingying said.

Looking at the two of them, Zhou Lang felt a surge of warmth in his heart.

"Let's go together then," he said, "but you have to follow my instructions."

The three arrived at the iron door to the basement.

A rusty iron lock hung on the door. Zhou Lang took out a pair of scissors, aimed them at the lock, and cut it.

With a snap, the iron lock broke.

The first lock is broken.

Pushing open the iron gate, there was a downward staircase, so dark that the bottom couldn't be seen.

Zhou Lang walked ahead, holding an oil lamp, with Zhao Qiang and Han Yingying following closely behind.

The stairs were very long; it took about five minutes to reach the bottom.

At the end of the stairs was a narrow corridor, the walls of which were covered with black mold, and the air was filled with the stench of decay.

Zhou Lang walked forward holding the oil lamp. The green light shone on the wall, revealing scratches that were deeply embedded in the wall, and in some places, dried bloodstains remained.

"What exactly is locked up here?" Zhao Qiang's voice trembled.

"You'll find out soon."

The corridor wasn't long, and soon it came to an end. An iron door stood in front of them, with a second lock on it, and dark red scabs of blood congealed around the keyhole.

Blood Lock.

Zhou Lang looked at his bandaged right hand, and with a thought, the bandage began to bleed. He pressed his hand against the keyhole, and the blood flowed into it.

With a click, the lock opened.

Pushing open the door, you enter a larger space, resembling an operating room. A rusty operating table stands against the wall, and various medical instruments are scattered on the floor, along with several glass jars containing unidentified liquids.

Han Yingying covered her mouth, almost vomiting.

Those glass jars contained human organs—hearts, livers, eyeballs—all perfectly preserved, appearing particularly eerie under the green light.

"This is where those 'foods' are made," Zhou Lang said.

Zhao Qiang pointed to the depths of the room: "What's that?"

Zhou Lang raised the oil lamp, and when the light shone on it, he saw the third door.

This door was completely different from the previous two; it was entirely black, with no decorations on the surface, and not even a doorknob.

Heart lock.

Zhou Lang walked to the door and reached out to touch it.

A cool sensation came over me, followed by a surge of power into my mind.

He saw his sister.

The older sister stood in the darkness, a gentle smile on her face, and reached out her hand to him.

"Xiao Lang, come here."

Zhou Lang's hand trembled slightly.

He knew it was an illusion. But the face was so real, so real, that he almost forgot he was in a game.

"sister…"

He took a step forward.

"Zhou Lang!" Han Yingying's voice rang in my ears, "Don't go over there!"

Zhou Lang suddenly came to his senses and realized that he had already walked to the door and was about to put his hand on it.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.

The bandaged man once said that this door can read minds, and only those who truly want to die can open it. But one can also deceive oneself, making oneself believe that what one desires most lies behind the door.

Zhou Lang closed his eyes.

My older sister is behind the door.

My sister needs him.

You can find your sister as long as you open this door.

He kept repeating these words, trying to convince himself and immersing himself in the idea.

His hand rested on the door.

The door opened.

A gust of cold wind rushed out from under the door, carrying a strong smell of blood. Zhou Lang opened his eyes and saw that there was even deeper darkness behind the door.

"Wait for me here." He turned to look at Zhao Qiang and Han Yingying.

"No, we'll go together," Han Yingying said.

"This door is only wide enough for one person at a time," Zhou Lang shook his head. "Besides, it's too dangerous inside. You'll only be a burden to me if you go in."

Zhao Qiang gritted his teeth: "Then be careful."

Zhou Lang nodded, holding the oil lamp as he walked inside.

The door closed behind me, and the light in the corridor disappeared, leaving only the green glow of the oil lamp.

It was even colder here than outside, so cold that you could see your breath in the cold air. Zhou Lang walked forward and stepped on something soft. Looking down, he saw it was a corpse.

The corpse was mostly decomposed, but the clothes revealed that it belonged to a player.

Zhou Lang continued forward and soon saw a second, a third...

These are all players who have been to the basement, but none of them made it out alive.

After walking for about ten minutes, light appeared ahead.

Zhou Lang quickened his pace and arrived at a huge room.

In the center of the room was an operating table, and a person was lying on it.

No, that's not a person.

It was a composite.

Its head belonged to a little girl, but its body to an adult male, and its limbs came from different people, with clear signs of stitching. Most bizarrely, these parts were moving, as if they were alive.

"Finally... someone else has come..."

The little girl opened her mouth, her voice hoarse as if she hadn't spoken in a long time.

Zhou Lang gripped the chainsaw tightly: "You're the owner of this place?"

"Master?" The little girl laughed, a mournful laugh. "I'm just a failure."

"What do you mean?"

"The head doctor wanted to resurrect his daughter," the little girl said. "So he killed all the patients and used their bodies to piece together a perfect body. But he failed; all he created was this monster, me."

Zhou Lang frowned: "What about the dean?"

"He's dead," the little girl said. "He sacrificed himself in his last experiment, and then he went insane. The butler who's killing people now is him."

Zhou Lang was stunned.

It turns out that the person who killed the butler was the dean, the madman who set fire to everyone and killed them.

"So you've been here the whole time?"

"Yes." Blood tears streamed from the little girl's eyes. "I'm trapped in this body, spending every day in agony. The organs that were sent down were all parts the director wanted to replace, but he failed every time."

Zhou Lang fell silent.

This little girl was also a victim, ruined beyond recognition by the dean's madness.

"Can you kill me?" the little girl suddenly said. "I'm really... so tired."

Zhou Lang looked at her, his eyes filled with despair and pleading.

"What would happen if I killed you?"

"This game will end," the little girl said. "All the ghosts trapped here will be freed, and you will be able to leave too."

"But you just said that killing the room's owner would trap you here."

"That's a lie." The little girl smiled bitterly. "The rules set by the headmaster were to protect me. He didn't want me to die, so he made up that lie."