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

Zhao Qiang shivered.

Han Yingying came down from the second floor at this moment, clutching a crumpled piece of paper in her hand.

"It was slipped under the door of room 206." She unfolded the paper.

There was only one line of text on it, crooked and illegible, as if it had been scratched onto the wall with a fingernail and then transferred to the paper:

"Help me."

The handwriting is different from that on the notepad and the back of the photo frame. This is the third type of handwriting.

"Whose room is 206?" Zhou Lang asked.

"It's Xiao Chen's," Han Yingying said.

Zhou Lang stood up, went upstairs, walked to the door of 206, and knocked.

No one answered.

He knocked three more times.

The door opened a crack from the inside. Half of Xiao Chen's face was visible, while the right half was hidden by the door.

"What's wrong?"

"I'd like to borrow your room for a while," Zhou Lang said.

"No." Xiao Chen's refusal was decisive; he stood in the doorway, showing no intention of moving aside.

Zhou Lang didn't press the issue and took a step back. But in that one glance, he noticed a scar on the right side of Xiao Chen's face, which was hidden by the door. It stretched from the cheekbone to the chin, had scabbed over, but the edges were still red.

"That wound," Zhou Lang said softly, "who inflicted it?"

Xiao Chen's eyes changed. It was a very complex expression, containing fear, pleading, and a blank look that only appears after extreme restraint.

"He fell."

She closed the door.

Zhou Lang stood in the corridor without leaving, when he heard a very soft, suppressed sob coming from behind the door.

He returned to his room and rearranged all the information he had gathered in his mind.

Alan, the Human Skin Lantern. By day, she was a taciturn woman who denied having a husband. By night, she became a human skin lantern. Presumed cause of death: turned into a human skin lantern by her husband. Her husband cheated on her, but she refused to divorce him.

The innkeeper—smiling all day, secretly digging pits in the backyard, counting money inside. A patriarchal man, he sold his own daughter—the baby girl in the photo. He drowned his wife. His body was then plastered into a cement wall by his deceased wife. But he came back to life during the day, through reincarnation.

The landlady—a giant from the bottom of the lake. Her unusual size is the result of swelling after drowning. After her husband sold her child and she discovered the truth, she was drowned by him in the lake behind the mountain. After death, she rose up and sealed her husband inside a cement wall. At night, she emerges from the water to patrol.

The young couple, Li Yi and Song Tiantian, were caught up in a scandal during their trip and burned to death. Their diary entries were interrupted halfway through.

Xiao Chen—a female college student working part-time. She has scars on her face and marks on her wrists. She never lets anyone into her room. She was raped and murdered. She also bears the responsibility for the deaths of innocent people.

Six ghosts, six different ways of dying. All are trapped in a seven-day cycle of reincarnation, experiencing death again and again.

Resentment will only grow stronger.

"The hidden clues are meant to help them clear their resentment," Zhou Lang told Zhao Qiang and Han Yingying. "But the problem is—this instance was originally C-rank. C-rank ghosts shouldn't have such a strong sense of oppression."

"you mean?"

"Something of a higher level has infiltrated and disrupted the rules of the entire instance. These ghosts are being catalyzed through constant reincarnation, and their strength far surpasses that of a C-rank."

"What do we do then?" Zhao Qiang's voice was a little dry. "Can we win?"

"Tonight is the third night." Zhou Lang didn't answer the question directly. "Last night they were able to reach their hands through the crack in the door, and tonight, judging by this trend... their entire bodies could appear in the room."

Zhao Qiang: "In the room?!"

"But we shouldn't take action yet. We should just appear to lure us into opening the door or making other reactions."

"I thank it," Zhao Qiang said expressionlessly. "And tomorrow? The day after?"

Zhou Lang looked out the window; the trees on the hill behind the house were swaying in the wind. It was already getting dark.

"Starting tomorrow, we will launch a preemptive attack."

The room fell silent for a few seconds.

Zhao Qiang closed his eyes. Han Yingying clenched her fists. These two reactions were entirely within Zhou Lang's expectations—Zhao Qiang would calm down when he was extremely scared, while Han Yingying would suppress all her emotions and turn them into action.

"There's still a chance," Zhou Lang said. "If we can cleanse at least one ghost of its resentment before the fourth day, the dungeon's suppression will loosen, and the intensity of its proactive attacks will decrease."

"Whom should we help?"

"Xiao Chen."

"Why her?"

"Because she's the only one who was calling for help during the day." Zhou Lang unfolded the paper. "The other ghosts have completely fallen, but Xiao Chen is still struggling. She still remembers who she is."

"How can I help?"

"Find the person who killed her. In this cycle of reincarnation, uncover the truth behind her death and help her let go."

Han Yingying: "Is the person who killed her also in this instance?"

Zhou Lang remained silent.

He remembered the boss's smile as he counted the money, the marks repeatedly made on Xiao Chen's wrists, and the deep pit dug in the backyard.

The puzzle is complete.

it's dark.

The third night was even more intense than the first two.

At 9:30, not yet 10:00, all the lights in the corridor went out. Not one by one, but all at once, as if someone had pulled all the fuses at once.

Darkness engulfed the entire inn in a second.

Then the sound started.

It wasn't the sound of dragging or water. It was human voices.

"Open the door, it's so cold outside."

A woman's voice, soft and weary, drifted from the other end of the corridor.

It was Alan—or rather, Alan's ghost. There was a faint plea in his voice that made you instinctively reach for the doorknob.

Zhou Lang sat on the bed without moving.

"Open the door, I've got something good to show you."

The sound is getting closer. It's right outside the door.

Then, the door moved—not by being pushed, but by the door's material itself becoming transparent. Like a piece of glass gradually fogging up, or like fog dissipating.

The complete image of the human skin lantern appeared before Zhou Lang's eyes for the first time.

It wasn't just a glimpse through the crack in the door, but the whole thing.

It was a human skin that had been completely peeled off and sewn onto the bamboo frame of a lantern. The facial features were still intact; the eyes were closed, and the corners of the mouth were slightly upturned—a very peaceful expression. But there was no flesh beneath the skin, and a dark red flame burned inside the lantern.

Flames seeped out from the slits of his eyes, nostrils, and corners of his mouth.

She just hung there outside the door, swaying precariously.

"Please, open the door."

Her voice was trembling with tears.

Zhou Lang stared at the lantern for five seconds, then picked up a pillow and covered his face with it.

It's not that I'm scared. It's that the lights are too bright and it's affecting my sleep.

The room next door, Zhao Qiang's, was not so peaceful.

Standing outside Zhao Qiang's door was the landlady—the landlady, completely submerged. Her body was swollen and deformed from prolonged immersion; her clothes clung tightly to her body, and her skin was grayish-white, covered with ruptured veins. Her mouth opened and closed, continuously gushing out murky lake water.

Water seeped in through the crack under the door. Zhao Qiang stood on the bed, frantically sending messages to Zhou Lang on his phone.

But the cell phone signal was down tonight.

Can't send it out.