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

Zhao Qiang counted from the side: "Three, two, one—that's it!"

The eighth batch has been cleared.

Zhou Lang took a few breaths and looked down at the oil lamp. Less than a third of the oil remained, and the wick was so short it was almost invisible.

"There are three more left." He looked at the last three rings on the corpse's hand. "The oil lamp won't last until the very end."

Han Yingying returned the oil lamp to him, and flinched as her fingertips touched his palm—his hand was covered in blood.

"Your wound—"

"It's just a superficial injury, nothing serious." Zhou Lang stretched his shoulder and grinned.

Zhao Qiang leaned closer to examine his back and gasped, "Old Zhou, you can see the bone in your back. You call this a superficial injury?"

"As long as it can move, that's fine."

Zhao Qiang was about to say something when Zhou Lang interrupted him: "The ninth one, get ready."

The chainsaw started up again.

The sound of the ninth ring shattering echoed through the chamber, and this time the entire building shook more violently than ever before. Dust fell from the ceiling, and cracks appeared in the stone slabs overhead.

It wasn't a bunch of ghostly butlers who came down.

It is.

only one.

But this one, from the moment it took its first step up the stairs, the wick of the oil lamp began to vibrate wildly, the green light flickering as if it were resisting something.

The ghostly butler entered the secret room, and it was different from the previous ones—it had a face.

Its features were clearly defined, its expression calm, and it wore a crisp butler's uniform with its hands behind its back. If its feet hadn't been off the ground, Zhou Lang would have almost thought it was a living person.

"The ninth butler," it spoke, its voice normal, without any harsh noise. "The longest tenure, forty-seven years."

It glanced at the shattered ring fragments on the ground, then at the chainsaw in Zhou Lang's hand, and shook its head.

"rough."

Then it made its move.

Without any warning. One second it was standing three meters away, the next its hand was already gripping Zhou Lang's neck.

Zhou Lang didn't even have time to react.

He was lifted up and his back slammed against the stone wall.

Han Yingying raised the oil lamp and shone it on it—the green light shone on it, and the butler ghost didn't even blink.

"This lamp is useless to me," said the ninth butler. "I am sober."

Zhao Qiang grabbed a candlestick from the stone table and smashed it on the ghost's head. The ghost butler lightly blocked it with his other hand, sending the candlestick flying and Zhao Qiang being bounced against the wall.

Zhou Lang was being choked, struggling to breathe, but his hand was still gripping the chainsaw. He pressed the switch, and the saw blade pressed directly against the butler ghost's arm—

The chainsaw made a creaking sound, sparks flew, and it left a mark on its arm, but couldn't cut any further.

"I told you, be rough." The butler ghost increased his strength.

Zhou Lang's vision began to blur. Lack of oxygen caused his brain to rapidly shut down while simultaneously working at high speed.

His bandages were pulled.

The bandage on his wrist seemed to come alive, shooting out and wrapping around the butler ghost's wrist.

The butler glanced down at the bandages, his expression changing for the first time: "This is... something from the manor."

The bandages were tightening, but the butler ghost was too strong, and the tightening speed could not keep up with the speed at which it exerted force.

Zhou Lang made a decision on the verge of suffocation.

He released the chainsaw, freeing his right hand to reach for the butler ghost's chest—where a butler's badge was pinned. He had collected eight badges from each butler ghost he had defeated.

He didn't know what use it was, but he slapped all eight badges onto the butler ghost's chest.

The effect is immediate.

The butler ghost's body jolted violently, and he released his grip. Zhou Lang fell to the ground, coughing violently.

Eight badges were embedded in the butler's body, emitting a dark red light. The butler looked down at his chest, his expression shifting from calm to confusion, and then from confusion to... relief?

"I see," it said softly. "They were the ones who told me to leave."

Its body began to become transparent.

"Young man, the last one... Kill the butler... It's stronger than all of us combined." It looked at Zhou Lang, "But it has a weakness."

"What weakness?"

"It remembers who it is."

After saying this, the ninth butler's figure completely disappeared, turning into a wisp of smoke that drifted towards the ceiling.

The spirit of the steward, 'Sun Jing,' has been released from suffering.

[Rewards: Butler Badge x1 (Exorcism Edition), Oil Lamp Fuel Replenished by 30%]

Zhou Lang sat on the ground, a ring of purplish-red marks around his neck from strangulation. He caught his breath for half a minute, then picked up the oil lamp and glanced at it—the lamp oil had indeed been replenished.

Zhao Qiang scrambled to his feet from the corner, bumping his head and wincing, "Could you please not be so rough with the butler who's giving me a discount...?"

Han Yingying squatted down next to Zhou Lang, looked at the scars on his neck, her lips moved, but in the end she didn't say anything. She just took out a strip of cloth from her pocket and handed it to him.

Zhou Lang took it, wiped the blood off his neck, and stood up.

The tenth one.

Without hesitation, he smashed the chainsaw onto the ring, producing a crisp cracking sound.

Nothing came this time.

Quietly.

One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.

Ten seconds passed, and there was no sound from the stairs.

"Not coming?" Zhao Qiang turned his head to look at the stairwell.

A system notification popped up:

The spirit of the tenth butler has dissipated on its own during the ritual of deliverance.

[Reward: Butler Badge x1]

The three men exchanged a glance. Zhao Qiang grinned: "There's even something given away for free? When luck comes, you can't stop it—"

His smile froze.

Because the last ring broke on its own before Zhou Lang could even smash it.

Footsteps came from upstairs.

I walked slowly and steadily from the first floor to the basement entrance, and then down the stairs one step at a time.

The butler has appeared.

It remained the same as always: a blank face, a crisp uniform, and hands hanging at its sides. But unlike during the day, the air around it was distorted and deformed, and the ground cracked open with every step it took.

It stood on the last step of the stairs and tilted its head.

"Working hours are over. Please return to your rooms to rest."

It was using the same rhetoric it used during the day.

But everyone knew that what was coming was bound to happen.

The temperature in the sealed room plummeted.

Zhou Lang's hairs stood on end, not from the cold, but from the pressure. The aura emanating from the butler was on a completely different level from the previous butler ghosts—the ninth butler was already outrageous enough, but this one was even more exaggerated.

He quickly tidied up his belongings: chainsaw—the battery was about half full; scissors—the blades were a bit worn; oil lamp—the oil had been reduced by 30%; butler badges—nine in total, one of which was a sacrificial badge.

Han Yingying retreated behind him, while Zhao Qiang was still rubbing the back of his head in the corner.

The butler descended the steps, each step echoing clearly. It stopped about five meters from Zhou Lang, tilting its head to one side.

"Mr. Langligelang, you have violated Article 7 of the Employee Handbook: No one may leave their room at night."