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

"I'll be right there."

He hung up the phone, quickly washed up and changed his clothes, and rushed out the door.

When they arrived at Han Yingying's house, Zhao Qiang was already waiting at the door.

"Her mother called the police, but they said they have to wait 24 hours before they can file a case," Zhao Qiang said. "What should we do?"

Zhou Lang did not answer and went straight into Han Yingying's room.

The room was tidy, and there was a note on the bed that read, "I'm coming to find you."

But Zhou Lang noticed that there was a photo under the note.

He picked up the photo; it was a picture of him and Han Yingying at the entrance of the resort, probably taken by Zhao Qiang.

On the back of the photo was a line of small print: "If I don't come back, please forget me."

Zhou Lang's hands began to tremble.

That fool…

"Why would she do this?" Zhao Qiang asked, confused. "Didn't we agree to be together?"

Zhou Lang didn't speak. He suddenly remembered the question Han Yingying had asked him yesterday.

Will you still log into the game?

Her eyes at that moment held worry, and... determination.

"She did it for me," Zhou Lang said.

"What?"

"She was worried that it would be too dangerous for me to go into the game alone, so she wanted to go in first and scout ahead for me."

Zhao Qiang was stunned: "Has she gone mad? Those games are so dangerous!"

"So I'm going to find her." Zhou Lang turned and walked out.

"Wait!" Zhao Qiang grabbed him. "How are you going to get into the game? It's not like you can just log in whenever you want!"

Zhou Lang stopped and looked at Zhao Qiang.

"I have a way."

He remembered there was something else in his inventory: Jack's murder lamp.

The description of that oil lamp said that once lit, it could reveal the truth hidden in the darkness, but it would also attract the attention of certain things.

Some things probably include games.

"Wait for me here," Zhou Lang said.

The air in the basement was as cold as an icebox.

Zhou Lang held up an oil lamp, its green light illuminating a narrow passage. The walls on both sides were covered with rusty iron chains, and the floor was covered with a layer of black liquid that emitted a pungent, putrid smell.

"This smell..." Han Yingying covered her mouth and nose, her face turning pale.

"Don't breathe too deeply," Zhou Lang warned. "The air here is polluted."

The three walked along the passage, their footsteps echoing in the empty basement. After walking about ten meters, a second door appeared ahead.

The door was black, covered with strange runes, and had a groove in the center shaped like a hand.

"Is this the Blood Lock?" Zhao Qiang stared at the groove.

Zhou Lang nodded and extended his right hand, which was wrapped in bandages. The bandages unwrapped automatically, revealing the skin underneath, and then a bandage pierced his palm, blood flowing down the bandages into the grooves.

The door clicked open slowly.

"Your blood..." Han Yingying looked at Zhou Lang's hand, "is it ghost blood?"

"I guess so." Zhou Lang didn't explain further, and wrapped the bandage back around his hand; the wound had already healed.

Behind the second door was a larger space with a high ceiling, filled with various instruments, including operating tables, iron cages, and some torture devices whose names I didn't know.

The light from the oil lamp shone on the corner of the wall, where a pile of bones lay, some still covered in rotting flesh.

Han Yingying almost threw up.

"Don't look over there," Zhou Lang said. "Focus on finding the third door."

They walked around the space and finally found the third door at the very back.

This door is completely different from the previous two; it is white, with a smooth, mirror-like surface, and has no handles or keyholes.

Zhou Lang stood in front of the door, recalling what the bandaged man had said.

Only someone who truly wants to die can open it.

He took a deep breath and reached out to touch the door.

A cool sensation came over me, followed by a surge of power into my mind, and countless images flashed before my eyes.

The parents' funeral.

The day my sister went missing.

I sat alone in my empty house.

Those images were filled with intense emotions—sadness, despair, anger…all of them surged up.

Zhou Lang gritted his teeth, his sister's face appearing in his mind.

If there's news of her behind the door, then even death would be worthwhile.

He convinced himself to believe this, temporarily suppressing his will to survive.

The door moved.

A crack appeared, and white light shone through it.

"We did it!" Zhao Qiang exclaimed excitedly.

Zhou Lang withdrew his hand, his palms sweaty. For a brief moment, he truly felt he could die.

"Let's go." He pushed open the door.

Behind the door was a circular room with an operating table in the center, on which lay a person.

To be precise, he is a person pieced together from different parts.

The thing had different limbs, each arm and leg came from a different person, and its body was pieced together from several pieces, with shocking stitching marks.

The most bizarre thing was its head, which was the face of a young woman with her eyes closed and her skin deathly pale.

"This is..." Han Yingying's voice trembled.

Zhou Lang stared at that face, his heart suddenly racing.

He recognized the face.

No, it should be said that he had seen people who looked very similar to this face.

"Sister..." he murmured to himself.

"What?" Zhao Qiang didn't hear clearly.

Zhou Lang didn't answer. He walked to the operating table and looked closely at the face.

Her facial features, contours, and even the location of the small mole on her face are exactly the same as her sister's.

But there's something different; this face looks younger, like her older sister did when she was a teenager.

"You've finally arrived."

A voice suddenly rang out, not from any direction, but directly in my mind.

The three of them were startled at the same time.

The things on the operating table opened their eyes.

Those eyes were pure black, with no whites, and when they stared at Zhou Lang, they carried an indescribable emotion.

"Who are you?" Zhou Lang asked.

"Me?" The thing laughed, a strange laugh. "I am the sum of everyone here, and their most perfect creation."

"What do you mean?"

"The body you see is made up of 108 people," it said. "Each part was carefully selected to create a perfect vessel."

Zhou Lang frowned: "A container? What's in it?"

"Prepare her." The thing pointed to its own face. "The owner of this face, her soul is still wandering in this world. The Dean wants to call her back and let her live in this body."

Why?

"Because the dean loves her." The thing's voice was mocking. "Love to the point of madness, love to the point of killing everyone just to prepare a perfect body for her."

Zhou Lang clenched his fist.

Who owns that face?

"You should recognize him," the thing said, staring at him. "After all, you look very alike."

Zhou Lang's heart sank.

"What's her name?"

"Zhou..." The thing was about to speak when it suddenly stopped, a pained expression on its face. "No, I can't say it, the dean won't allow it..."

Its body began to convulse, the spliced ​​parts split open, and black liquid flowed out.