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

Zhou Lang asked a crucial question: "How do we break this?"

The manor owner didn't answer directly. He looked down at the ring on his hand and said in a voice like a snapping twig, "Each ring represents the soul of a steward. If you want to destroy the manor, you must first liberate them."

"How do we liberate them?"

"Take it off and smash it."

"Is it that simple?" Zhao Qiang couldn't help but ask.

The manor owner tilted his head to look at him, the movement small, but the feeling of oppression was extremely strong. Zhao Qiang swallowed the rest of his words.

"When you smash the ring, those butlers will be released," the manor lord said. "The released butlers won't thank you; their first act will be to kill you. Because they've forgotten who they are; they only know how to obey the manor."

"That's why we have to fight." Zhou Lang understood.

"Eleven butlers, eleven rings." The manor lord's head drooped again. "My time is running out; the bandages won't last much longer. I'll tell you one last thing—the one who killed the butler was the last, and also the strongest. It's different from the others; it remembers who it is."

After he finished speaking, the two faint lights of the manor owner went out, the bandage automatically detached, and floated back onto Zhou Lang's wrist.

The room fell silent again.

Zhao Qiang swallowed hard: "Eleven butler-level ghosts, Old Zhou, are you serious?"

Zhou Lang was already making plans. He looked down at the ring on the corpse's hand, picked one up, and tried to pull it off—but couldn't.

He switched to a different tool.

The chainsaw started up, its piercing roar echoing through the sealed room.

Han Yingying and Zhao Qiang both took three steps back.

Zhou Lang pressed the chainsaw against the edge of the ring and applied force—

Sparks flew everywhere, and the ring cracked.

At the same time, an extremely sharp scream came from above.

The whole building was shaking.

The first ring has been destroyed, and the butler's spirit 'Zhang Fu' has been released.

[Warning: The released butler spirit is moving towards your location]

"Here it comes." Zhou Lang turned off the chainsaw and switched to scissors.

Rapid footsteps echoed down the stairs—not just one person, but many. The ghosts who had been lingering in the corridor began to stir, their cries surging in from all directions.

But only one made it down.

A ghost dressed in a butler's uniform, without any facial features, moved as fast as a black gust of wind. Its hands transformed into sharp claws, lunging straight for Zhou Lang's face.

Zhou Lang dodged to the side, and the scissors slashed across its waist.

It was cut open.

The butler ghost's body split in two, but it didn't fall. Its upper body twisted its head and continued to pounce. Zhou Lang raised the oil lamp—the green light shone on it, and its movements froze for half a second.

Just this half-second.

Zhou Lang's chainsaw started again, cleaving it in two from top to bottom. The butler ghost let out a final scream before turning into black smoke and dissipating.

The spirit of the butler, 'Zhang Fu,' has been destroyed.

[Reward: Butler Badge x1]

Zhao Qiang stood blankly in the corner, his mouth half-open.

"What's next?" Han Yingying asked, her voice a little tense, but her expression remained calm.

Zhou Lang looked at the remaining ten rings.

"Keep smashing."

When the second ring broke, two ghostly butlers appeared.

Faster and more ruthless than the first. Attacking from both sides, their sharp claws whistling through the air. Zhou Lang, with an oil lamp in one hand and a chainsaw in the other, first used the green light to force back the one on the left, then used the chainsaw to deal with the one on the right.

The one on the right was very clever; it dodged the chainsaw by sidestepping and then slapped Zhou Lang on the shoulder with its claw.

The clothes were torn open, the skin and flesh were rolled up, and beads of blood seeped out.

"Old Zhou!" Zhao Qiang called out.

Zhou Lang didn't utter a sound. Taking the blow to his shoulder, he slid back half a step, then stabbed with the chainsaw in the backhand—

It pierced directly into the butler ghost's chest.

Black smoke exploded and dispersed.

After being driven back by the oil lamp, the one on the left pounced again. Han Yingying somehow found her way to the stone table, grabbed the steward's diary, and smashed it hard in the face.

The butler ghost stumbled.

How much damage can a book cause? Under normal circumstances, the answer is zero. But this diary, which recorded more than a hundred years of resentment, had the effect of hitting a ghost face with a blunt object.

Zhou Lang took the opportunity to add a snip, cutting it from the shoulder to the waist.

The butler ghost roared and turned into black smoke.

"Three now." Zhou Lang wiped the blood from his shoulder. "Eight more to go."

Zhao Qiang raised his hand and asked, "What can I do?"

"Count them for me."

"...That's it?"

"Count them carefully, and don't let any slip through from behind."

Although Zhao Qiang was unwilling, he knew his own limitations. He retreated to the corner, his eyes wide open, staring at the direction of the stairwell.

When the fourth ring shattered, three more appeared. Zhou Lang's oil lamp played a crucial role. Wherever the green light reached, the butler ghost's speed would noticeably decrease, essentially giving itself a slowing aura.

But the cost is that the oil in the lamp is decreasing.

The lamp that Granny Green gave us isn't infinitely long; the wick burns out bit by bit. At the current rate of consumption, it can only last for another six or seven at most.

Zhou Lang began to speed up the pace.

The fifth one. The sixth one. The seventh one.

One after another, the ghostly butlers charged down, only to be eliminated one after another. The secret room was filled with the buzzing of chainsaws and the screams of ghosts, and the thick black smoke made it almost impossible to see anything.

Zhou Lang's wounds were multiplying. His left arm was scratched twice, his back was slapped, and his right leg was grazed. The bandages were writhing under his skin, trying to heal the wounds, but they couldn't keep up with the rate at which he was injured.

After the eighth ring shattered, five butler ghosts rushed down in succession.

This time it's different.

The five ghostly butlers didn't rush up. Instead, they lined up at the top of the stairs, bowed their heads in unison, and made a gesture of respect.

Then look up at the same time.

Mouths appeared out of nowhere on their faces, which had no facial features.

Five mouths opened simultaneously, revealing a dense array of broken teeth, and emitted a clattering laugh.

Zhao Qiang's legs were trembling: "Old Zhou, these seem a bit different."

Zhou Lang noticed it too. These steward ghosts were of a higher level than the previous ones. Their bodies were more solid, their black smoke was thicker, and—they were actually cooperating.

Two of them drew attention from the front, one went around to the side, and the other two climbed over from the ceiling.

Zhou Lang couldn't handle the attack from five sides alone. He tossed the oil lamp to Han Yingying: "Use it to light these things!"

Han Yingying took the lamp and aimed it at the two ghostly butlers on the ceiling. The green light caused them to slow down.

Zhou Lang charged toward the two in front, carrying a chainsaw, ignoring the one on the side—no, he deliberately ignored it.

The moment the butler ghost pounced on him from the side, he crouched down.

The butler ghost missed its target and crashed directly into its companion rushing towards it.

The two ghosts were entangled together.

Zhou Lang used his chainsaw to cut a string of candied hawthorns.

The remaining three butler ghosts were no longer so difficult to deal with after their speed was suppressed by the green light. Han Yingying held up the lamp and coordinated with Zhou Lang's movements, and the two of them displayed a strange and tacit understanding.