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

"There's something wrong with the faucet."

One of the three pieces of information left behind by the deceased player.

Zhou Lang stood up, tore off the tape, and turned the doorknob. The door wasn't locked.

The moment I pushed open the door, a sweet, fishy smell almost hit me. The room was laid out exactly the same as the one upstairs, but all the furniture was covered in a layer of black mold. The curtains were drawn tightly, letting in no light at all.

The sound of dripping water came from the bathroom.

Zhou Lang walked over and pushed open the bathroom door.

The faucet was running, and the water flowed very thinly, dripping into the sink. But the water in the sink wasn't flowing down the drain—it climbed up the sink wall, spread along the edge of the mirror, and gathered into a water stain on the mirror surface.

The shape of the water stain is a human face.

Zhou Lang stared at that face for five seconds.

The face was indistinct, resembling that of a young woman. Two deep eddies formed in her eye sockets, and her mouth was open, as if silently speaking.

He reached out to turn off the tap.

It wouldn't turn. The faucet was icy cold to the touch, as if it were locked shut by some force.

Zhou Lang released his grip and took a step back. The "face" on the water stain began to change; its mouth opened and closed wider, and the two eye-shaped whirlpools spun faster and faster.

Then he heard a sound.

It wasn't heard through the ears—it appeared directly in the mind.

"...Save...me..."

Two words, spoken in a woman's voice, barely audible.

Zhou Lang's pupils contracted slightly.

It wasn't out of fear. It was because he felt he had heard that voice somewhere before.

He didn't rush to respond, but instead took out his sketchbook and quickly sketched the shape of the water stains on the mirror. Then he closed the bathroom door and left room 303.

Next, he checked 304 and 305.

The door to room 304 is locked; it's like it's blocked from the inside. No matter how I twist the handle, it won't budge.

You can get into room 305, though. The room is completely empty, with no strange traces and not even any furniture. Four white walls, a white ceiling, and a white floor. Except for a long scratch in the corner that runs from the floor to the ceiling.

The shape of the scratches looks like someone is desperately scratching with their fingernails.

Zhou Lang crouched down to examine the starting point of the scratch. The plaster had been peeled off, revealing the gray cement underneath. Something was embedded in the cement—he carefully pried it open with scissors.

A button fell out.

The buttons on the ordinary white shirt had rust marks on the edges. He turned it over and saw a tiny letter "L" engraved on the back.

Zhou Lang put the button in his pocket and went downstairs.

At noon, the five of them met at the restaurant.

Hui Ge and Lin Xiaoxi didn't find much. The town was indeed deserted, but Lin Xiaoxi found an old newspaper in an abandoned stationery store. The newspaper was dated twelve years ago, and the headline on the front page read, "Serious fire breaks out at Anju Inn in Luming Town, seven people die."

"Seven people have died." Su Tang tapped the table. "There are also seven anomalies in the dungeon."

Zhou Lang took the newspaper and glanced at it. The report was brief—twelve years ago, in the summer, a fire broke out at Anju Hostel at night, killing all seven guests staying on the third floor. The cause of the fire was aging electrical wiring. The hostel subsequently closed down, and three years later, it was taken over by a new owner, renovated, and renamed "Anju Homestay".

"The seven people who were burned to death have become monsters, trapped in this building," Hui concluded.

"Too easy." Zhou Lang shook his head.

"What do you mean?"

"A C-level instance won't put its core information on a newspaper for you to pick up easily. It's either misleading misinformation or just the tip of the iceberg." He looked at Fang Yan and Su Tang. "What about you guys?"

Fang Yan took something out and placed it on the table.

A diary with a dark blue cover.

"Found it under the front desk, stuck to the bottom of the desk and secured with tape." Fang Yan turned to the first page.

The diary belonged to one of the earlier groups of players. The handwriting was messy and became increasingly disorganized as it went on.

The first day's record was unremarkable—arrived at the instance, familiarized myself with the environment, heard footsteps and singing in the corridor at night, but didn't open the door.

A key piece of information appeared in the second day's records:

"Red water was coming out of the bathroom faucet. After I turned it off, a face appeared in the mirror. My roommate said he didn't have this problem in his room, only mine. I'm staying in room 203."

203.

Zhou Lang's room.

He continued reading.

Day 3: "There was a person standing in the corridor. White dress, long hair. We didn't open the door, but she stood outside until dawn."

Day Four: "She came in. Not by opening the door, but by squeezing through a crack in the wall. I'll never forget the sound of bones dislocating. Old Zhang was dragged away by her. We ran downstairs, but the main door on the first floor was locked."

On the fifth day, there was only one line of text—it was stopped halfway through writing.

"Run. She's not a C-rank. She is."

Behind it was a long ink mark that stretched across the paper.

The air around the dining table smelled different.

Lin Xiaoxi dropped her chopsticks on the ground, and her hands trembled as she bent down to pick them up. Hui Ge stopped smoking, and the frivolous air on his face vanished completely.

Su Tang slowly said, "The strange thing about the C-level dungeon is that it can actively attack and kill players on the fourth day, and it can even pass through walls to enter. This level of difficulty is not right."

"It's not just about intensity." Zhou Lang picked up the diary, flipped to the last page, and pointed to the unfinished word. "She's not a C-rank. What he probably wanted to write was—the strangeness of her not being a C-rank."

Fang Yan's voice rang out at this moment, very low.

"This instance has been invaded by a higher-level anomaly."

No one refuted him.

Zhou Lang closed the diary and looked around. The expressions on the four faces were all different—Hui Ge was anxious, Lin Xiaoxi was fearful, Su Tang was solemn, and Fang Yan remained calm.

"The current situation is," Zhou Lang stated bluntly, "that the C-level rating for this instance is inaccurate. The actual danger level exceeds the limit. But the system won't change the rating, nor will it give us a chance to withdraw."

"What should we do?" Lin Xiaoxi's voice was trembling with tears.

Zhou Lang didn't answer immediately. He was thinking about the face covered in water stains in room 303 on the third floor, and the cry of "Help me" echoing in his mind.

He thought of the hidden storyline in the dungeon information that wasn't explicitly written out by the system—helping the strange creature change everything it experienced and cleanse its resentment.

Fire. Seven people died. Twelve years have passed.

If these anomalies didn't become stronger because of deep resentment, but were instead invaded by external S-class anomalies and forced to repeatedly experience death, causing their resentment to accumulate and them to turn evil in batches...

The root of the problem does not lie in these seven strange phenomena.

It's about that intruder.

"Let's just get through tonight first." Zhou Lang took back the diary and stuffed it into his pocket. "Tonight is the second day. Based on the pattern, the eerie things will be stronger than last night—they can seep into parts of the room through the faucets and door cracks."

"What do you mean by 'partial'?" Hui asked.