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

Zhao Qiang: "...It's that simple?"

"What's so simple about it?"

Zhao Qiang thought about it and agreed, so he shut up and continued wiping the railing.

When it was time to pay salaries in the afternoon, Zhou Lang deliberately stood next to the butler and, while the butler was looking down at the ledger, glanced at it and scanned it.

The shirt pocket contains something; it's square and has a stiff outline.

The butler looked up, his empty eye sockets meeting Zhou Lang's gaze: "You're so arrogant, perfect evaluation, salary 500."

When it placed the coin in Zhou Lang's hand, Zhou Lang did not immediately stop; he paused for a second.

Kill the Butler: "?"

"Thank you," Zhou Lang said.

The butler paused for two seconds, then lowered his head and continued flipping through the ledger. Zhou Lang put the money away and walked back into the crowd.

Han Yingying was next to him. She didn't ask anything, but just handed him half a pastry—something Xiong Ba had gotten from working during the day. She hadn't eaten it herself and had saved it.

Zhou Lang took it, ate it, and didn't say anything.

Xiong Batian was positioned diagonally behind them, keeping a close eye on their direction.

Zhou Lang did not go out that evening.

Zhao Qiang waited until 11 o'clock, then couldn't hold back any longer: "Aren't you going?"

"wait."

"What are you waiting for?"

"Let it move first."

Zhao Qiang didn't understand, but he didn't ask any more questions. He sat back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. About half an hour later, footsteps came from the corridor—heavy, rhythmic, the sound of the butler being killed.

It patrols once every night. Zhou Lang didn't encounter it when he went out yesterday, which means the patrol time is after midnight. He waited until now tonight specifically to figure out this time.

The footsteps passed by the door and paused for a moment.

The three people held their breath.

The footsteps continued, gradually fading into the distance.

Zhou Lang stood up: "Let's go."

The three went outside, Zhou Lang holding up an oil lamp, and the ghosts in the corridor made way for them as usual. They chased after the butler who had been killed, but didn't get too close, keeping a distance where they could just see his back.

The butler walked around the manor, finally stopping in a corner of the hall, his back to them, standing still.

Zhou Lang frowned—he had originally planned to sneak the item out when it wasn't looking, but this position made it difficult to make a move. He stood there for a few seconds, then handed the oil lamp to Han Yingying and took out a chainsaw from his pocket.

Zhao Qiang: "You're going to saw off the butler?"

"What's all the noise about?"

Zhao Qiang shut up.

Zhou Lang didn't actually start the chainsaw; he just turned it on briefly, making a short buzzing sound, and then immediately turned it off.

All the ghosts in the hall stirred, as if startled by something, and began to wander around, bumping into each other. Butler Killer also turned around and walked towards the source of the sound—his back was directly to Han Yingying.

Zhou Lang made a gesture to her.

Han Yingying paused for a second before reacting, then raised the oil lamp and moved it two steps to the side, drawing the butler's attention to the light. Zhou Lang circled behind it, reached into his shirt pocket, and with quick, steady movements, retrieved the contents within two seconds.

It is a token, made of black iron, the same material as the key, with the character "主" (Master) engraved on it.

Zhou Lang gripped the token in his hand and took three steps back.

The butler turned back, stood there for a while, and then continued walking forward as if nothing had happened.

Zhao Qiang leaned closer to examine the token, his expression complex: "...You succeeded just like that?"

"It doesn't know something's missing." Zhou Lang put the token in his pocket. "Let's go."

The three went upstairs and returned to the master bedroom door. Zhou Lang lifted the curtain, pushed open the door, lit the room with an oil lamp, walked to the bedside, and lifted the bed curtains.

The withered body still had its eyes open, and when it saw him, its mouth moved slightly.

Zhou Lang placed the token in its palm.

It gripped the withered hand tightly, making a slight grinding sound. Then it released its grip, returning the token to Zhou Lang.

Zhou Lang: "...What do you mean?"

His body and mouth moved, and this time his voice was a little louder, barely audible: "Recognize...you as my master."

Zhao Qiang scoffed from behind, "It's probably the protagonist's halo."

Zhou Lang gripped the token again, feeling its slight warmth, and a line of text appeared on the back of his hand:

[Obtained: Manor Owner's Token. The holder has control over everything within the manor, including "killing the butler."]

The manor fell silent at that moment, quieter than ever before—the ghosts in the corridors stopped moving, the wind outside ceased, and even the flames of the kerosene lamps did not flicker.

Han Yingying whispered, "It seems... everything has stopped?"

"Hmm." Zhou Lang looked at the token in his hand, calculated the money he had and the time remaining, and said, "Tomorrow during the day, have Zhao Qiang go and have a chat with Butler Sha."

Zhao Qiang: "Why me?"

"Build your courage."

"..."

"Just kidding." Zhou Lang lowered the curtain and walked towards the door. "Because you're now in the same category as it, it won't do anything to you."

Zhao Qiang thought about it and realized that it was indeed the case. He felt a little better, but only a little.

The three left the master bedroom, and the corridor returned to calm. The ghosts returned to their positions, but this time they weren't staring at them—or rather, they were staring, but from a different angle; it was more like they were waiting than monitoring.

Zhou Lang walked at the front and turned down the flame of the oil lamp by one notch.

Han Yingying followed behind, watching his back. She wanted to say something, but remained silent. She simply held the remaining half of the lamp steady, letting more light shine in front of her. Pushing open the iron door, before the chilling atmosphere of the basement could spread, the space before her suddenly distorted. The steps vanished, replaced by a violent jolt.

Zhou Lang steadied himself, and the green light of the oil lamp was replaced by the glaring incandescent light. They were standing in the aisle of a moving bus. The carriage was old, the leather on the seats was cracked, and it emitted a strange smell of engine oil and mildew.

"What the hell is going on?" Zhao Qiang gripped the back of the seat tightly, his face pale.

Han Yingying glanced down at her attire; her casual clothes had been replaced by a set of canvas overalls stained with paint, and she was now carrying a heavy easel. The system panel flashed: Identity Implanted—Art Student. Destination: Aoki Guesthouse.

The bus swayed along the rugged mountain road. Besides the three of them, there were several other passengers with blank expressions. A bald, middle-aged man sat in the front row, a dark shadow clinging to his neck. The shadow had long, thin arms and legs, slowly tightening its grip on the man's throat.

The middle-aged man's face was purplish and swollen, and his hands were futilely scratching at the air.

Han Yingying frowned and took a step forward. A yellow talisman slipped out from her sleeve.

"Don't move." Zhou Lang reached out to stop her. His hand was steady, without any unnecessary movements, simply positioned in the middle of the aisle.

"He's calling for help," Han Yingying said in a low voice.

"Look carefully." Zhou Lang withdrew his hand and pointed out the window.

The night outside was thick and impenetrable, but the reflection in the car window presented a completely different picture. Inside, a middle-aged man was peacefully dozing, with nothing around his neck. The dark figure existed only in the reality inside the car, but had no reflection.