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

Zhou Lang glanced at him.

Why should you help us?

"I'm not helping you," Xiong Batian said. "I'm helping myself. You have the key, you can open the door, and I'll follow you. That's called mutual benefit. I'm not doing charity."

This answer actually reassured Zhou Lang. People with clear goals are much more reliable than those who only talk about benevolence and morality.

"Okay." Zhou Lang nodded. "But you'll follow my instructions."

"It's fine in this instance."

7 PM.

The butler did not appear.

7:10. 7:30. 8:00.

The old-fashioned wall clock in the hall ticked away, each tick striking a nerve.

At 8:30, the manor gates opened by themselves.

A thick, solid mist billowed in from outside. A figure emerged from the mist—tall and slender, dressed in a black tuxedo with a golden wheat stalk emblem embroidered on the collar.

Manor owner.

Its face was hidden in the mist, with only the lower half visible. Its lips were thin and bluish, and a slight smile played at the corners of its mouth.

"My servants," it spoke. The voice seemed to come from a great distance, echoing. "Welcome to the inspection."

Before it could finish its pleasantries, Zhou Lang slipped out through the side door.

He walked quickly, clutching the key in his hand. The key was getting warm, pointing towards the second floor.

As he climbed the stairs, he heard the manor owner's voice behind him: "A mouse has escaped."

Then came Xiong Batian's voice: "Your inspection is of the three of us, it has nothing to do with him!"

Zhou Lang quickened his pace.

Second-floor hallway. The key was getting hotter and hotter, almost too hot to hold. Direction—Master bedroom.

He pushed open the door to the master bedroom.

The room was pretty much the same as when I cleaned it a few days ago, but there was something new on the wall.

A door.

The white door blends seamlessly into the wall; it would be impossible to spot without the key.

Zhou Lang inserted the key into the lock and turned it.

Click.

The door opened.

Behind the door was not a room, but a white void.

"System notification: The exit gate has been opened. Please lead all surviving players through this gate within ten minutes, otherwise the gate will close and never reopen."

ten minutes.

Zhou Lang turned and ran.

When he went downstairs, the situation in the hall was worse than he had expected. The manor lord's mist had spread to half the hall, Zhao Qiang was squeezed in a corner, and Han Yingying was barely holding on with her skill—a light-attribute defensive shield. Xiong Batian's iron wall had shattered, and he was kneeling on the ground, blood at the corner of his mouth.

"We've found the door!" Zhou Lang shouted. "Second floor, master bedroom, quick!"

The manor owner turned to look at him. The face, finally visible through the mist, was now fully revealed—

It was a face without eyes. Where the eyes were, there were two black holes, and something was wriggling inside.

"You took my keys," the manor owner said, his tone still calm. "That's impolite."

The fog suddenly rushed towards Zhou Lang.

Zhou Lang lit the oil lamp.

A burst of green light—no, the moment the green light appeared, the fog dissipated.

But it only receded a little bit.

The oil in the lamp was being consumed rapidly. Zhou Lang estimated that it could last for at most three minutes.

"Zhao Qiang! Take them upstairs!"

Zhao Qiang grabbed Han Yingying and ran. Xiong Batian got up on his own and staggered toward the stairs.

The manor owner didn't chase after them. Its attention was entirely focused on Zhou Lang—or rather, on the oil lamp.

"Something interesting." The manor owner held out a hand. The hand was withered and thin, with nails two inches long. "Let me see."

The fog rolled in again. The green light of the oil lamp began to flicker; the oil was almost gone.

Zhou Lang did something that no one expected.

He threw the oil lamp away.

The oil lamp twirled in the air, spilling its green oil all over the manor lord. The lamplight ignited the oil, and green flames erupted from the manor lord's body.

A sharp whistle.

Zhou Lang didn't look back, turned and rushed up the stairs, leaping up to the second floor in three strides. Zhao Qiang and Han Yingying were already waiting at the door, while Xiong Batian leaned against the wall, swaying precariously.

"Go in!" Zhou Lang pushed the three people into the white void one by one.

Behind him, hurried footsteps echoed down the stairs. The manor house, though engulfed in flames, did not stop. It dragged its burning body up the stairs, the green flames illuminating the entire corridor.

Zhou Lang was the last to step across the threshold.

He glanced back. The manor owner was standing at the doorway, but he didn't step over.

"Next time," it said, its voice mostly swallowed by the flames, "you will come back."

The door closed.

White light engulfed everything.

When he regained consciousness, Zhou Lang found himself lying on a cot.

The ceiling was grayish-white, and the fluorescent light tubes hummed with electricity. There was a smell of disinfectant in the air.

He sat up.

This was a small room, resembling a medical clinic. Besides a cot, there was a desk and two folding chairs. On the desk were a folder and a cup of tea that had gone cold.

The door opened.

The person who entered was wearing a black uniform with a shield-shaped badge embroidered on his left breast. The badge bore three characters: Zhenguisi (镇鬼司).

The man was in his early thirties, with a buzz cut, high cheekbones, and small but bright eyes. After entering, he first sized up Zhou Lang, then sat down in the folding chair and opened a folder.

"Like a wild child, right?"

"Um."

"Congratulations on clearing the B-rank dungeon 'Merchant Manor'." The other party turned a page. "Rating: S-rank. The completion reward has been sent to your account."

Zhou Lang felt his pockets; the keys and scissors were still there, but the oil lamp was gone. As expected, once the oil ran out, the lamp was a consumable item and became unusable.

"Where are Zhao Qiang and Han Yingying?" he asked.

"Everyone in the next room is fine. That guy named Xiong Batian is also alive, but he's more seriously injured and is receiving treatment."

Zhou Lang nodded.

"My name is Shen Zheng." The other person closed the folder, leaned back, and said, "Deputy Director of the Third Branch of the Zhengui Division. I'd like to talk to you about something."

"What is it?"

Shen Zheng didn't answer immediately. He stood up, walked to the window, and pulled back a corner of the blinds. Outside was a gray, hazy city, with towering buildings but few pedestrians on the streets. In the distance, there was a crack in the sky—a real crack, hanging in mid-air like shattered glass, with a dark red light shining through it.

"Do you know what that is?" Shen Zheng asked.

Zhou Lang walked to the window and glanced out.

He had noticed that crack before. After the bizarre game began, such things would occasionally appear in the sky, lasting from a few hours to a few days. There had never been an official explanation, but there were many popular theories—something like an entrance to a parallel world, a strange lair, or God sneezing.

"Rifts," Shen Zheng said. "That's what we call them internally. Each rift corresponds to a dungeon space. The higher the dungeon difficulty, the larger the rift. Look at that one—" He pointed to the largest crack in the sky in the distance, "the entrance to an S-rank dungeon. It's been hanging there for three months, and no one dares to go in."