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

"I'm resigning," Zhou Lang said.

The butler's blank face remained expressionless, but its movements paused for a moment.

"Resignation applications must be submitted 30 days in advance."

"Submit now, and the bonus will take effect immediately."

The butler tilted its head again. This was the third time. Each time, the angle of the tilt was greater than the last; by the third time, its head was almost parallel to its shoulders.

"Application rejected."

Then it moved.

Unlike the ninth butler, the speed of Killer wasn't a burst of teleportation, but rather a smooth, gradual advance. It strode towards Zhou Lang, its pace neither fast nor slow, but with each step it shortened the distance, and—

There's no escaping it.

Zhou Lang dodged to the left, and the butler followed him to the left. He dodged to the right, and the butler followed him to the right. It wasn't tracking; it was prediction. It knew where you were going before you even moved.

Zhou Lang raised the oil lamp.

The green light shone on the butler, and it paused for a moment—just a moment—before continuing on its way. The oil lamp had little effect on it.

The chainsaw was turned on, and Zhou Lang went straight to meet it.

The saw blade touched the butler's arm, just like it had on the ninth butler—a creaking sound, sparks flying, but it couldn't cut through.

The butler raised his hand and slapped Zhou Lang in the chest.

Zhou Lang used a chainsaw to block, but was sent flying, his back hitting a stone table, which shattered.

He coughed up two mouthfuls of blood.

"Old Zhou!" Zhao Qiang finally stood up, clutching half a candlestick in his hand, unsure whether to rush or run.

Han Yingying picked up the scissors that had fallen to the ground and stood in front of Zhou Lang. Her hands were trembling, but she didn't run away.

The butler glanced at her, but did not attack her. He walked around her and continued toward Zhou Lang.

It's only aimed at Zhou Lang.

"You...it won't hit you." Zhou Lang climbed up from the rubble table, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth. "It's only coming for me, because I'm the one who smashed the ring."

"So you're just telling us to just stand there and watch?" Han Yingying turned her head.

"You can't help. You can't even touch a ghost of this level." Zhou Lang was telling the truth—Han Yingying and Zhao Qiang were simply not strong enough to participate in a battle at this level.

The butler was already within three steps of the murderer.

Zhou Lang's bandages moved again, spreading from his wrist and wrapping his entire right arm. As the bandages tightened, the strength in his right arm surged—this was the ability of the Bandage Demon after its fusion, strengthening the body at the cost of consuming its own physical strength.

He gripped the chainsaw tightly and charged forward again.

This time is different.

The strength provided by the bandages was enough for the chainsaw to cut into the butler's body. The blade sliced ​​a gash in its shoulder, and black smoke billowed from the wound.

The butler looked down at his wounds.

For the first time, it did something it had never done during the day—it sighed.

"It really hurts," it said, its voice still the same mechanical butler tone, but with something more in it.

Then it stopped walking and started running.

The speed is three times that of before.

Zhou Lang had no time to react before a heavy punch slammed into his abdomen. His body curled up like a shrimp, his stomach churning, and blood trickled from his mouth. Before he could recover, the butler's knee was already pressed against his chin.

He took flight.

He hit the ceiling with the back of his head and then fell down.

The dull thud as the metal hit the ground made both Zhao Qiang and Han Yingying's hearts clench.

"Mr. Lang Lilang." The butler stood next to Zhou Lang, tilting his head condescendingly. "Employee rule number one: Obey management, do not resist."

Zhou Lang lay on the ground, covered in blood. The bandage on his right arm was frantically repairing his injury, but the repair speed couldn't keep up with the speed at which he was being beaten.

He rolled over, lying on his back, staring at the butler's blank face.

"Do you remember who you are?" he suddenly asked.

The act of killing the butler stopped.

To be precise, it froze.

"You are the last butler, and the only one who remembers his identity," Zhou Lang continued, his voice muffled by blood in his throat, but every word was clear. "All the other butlers have forgotten their names, but you haven't. What's your name?"

A crack appeared on the butler's blank face. Like an eggshell splitting open, it stretched from his forehead to his chin.

Something is surging inside the crack.

"I..." The butler's voice was no longer mechanical; it became broken and indistinct, as if two voices were speaking at the same time—one was the butler's, and the other was a person's.

"My name is..."

Zhou Lang pulled the badge, the one meant for the deceased, from his pocket and clutched it in his hand. He was betting on this—the weakness the ninth butler had mentioned before leaving.

The ability to remember who one is both the killer butler's strength and his fatal flaw.

The other butler ghosts have forgotten themselves, so they can obey the manor's will without any burden, existing purely as combat power. But the butler killer is different; it retains its memories, its thoughts, and the remnants of being a "human."

This remnant is the crack.

"What's your name?" Zhou Lang asked again.

The cracks on the butler's face widened. He crouched down, clutching his head, two voices battling fiercely within him. The butler's voice shouted, "Enforce the rules!" while the human voice called out a name.

"Zhao..."

Zhao Qiang was taken aback: "What?"

"Zhao Yongnian." The butler—no, Zhao Yongnian—finally uttered his name.

His blank face shattered completely, revealing the face of a middle-aged man. His features were regular, his face thin, and deep wrinkles lined the corners of his eyes. It was a face repeatedly ravaged by time and obsession.

Zhao Yongnian looked at Zhou Lang, his eyes not filled with ghostly fire, but with two lines of turbid tears.

"One hundred and twenty-three years," he said. "I've been the butler here for one hundred and twenty-three years."

Zhou Lang handed over the badge with the "Deliverance" version.

Zhao Yongnian looked at the badge, reached out his hand—and hesitated.

"If I leave, this house will collapse," he said. "There are ghosts inside."

"They should leave too," Zhou Lang said.

Zhao Yongnian remained silent for a long time. The only sounds in the secret room were his heavy breathing and the cracking of the stone slabs overhead. The house was truly collapsing; without the steward's support, the manor's structure was crumbling.

He took the badge and held it tightly in his hand.

Golden light spilled from between his fingers, slowly spreading throughout his body. His body became transparent, and his edges began to dissipate.

"Thank you, young man." His voice faded into the distance.

The light pierced through the ceiling, enveloping the entire building. Through the cracked ceiling, Zhou Lang saw the ghosts crammed into the corridor—a dense multitude of ghosts—all illuminated by the golden light.

Their figures vanished one after another, turning into specks of light that drifted into the air.

There were no screams, no struggles.

It's very quiet.

[Congratulations to player "浪里个浪" for successfully clearing the hidden level: Under the Manor]