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

Just then, a dark shadow suddenly materialized in the center of the Hall of Mirrors. The shadow slowly took shape, becoming a middle-aged man in an old-fashioned suit—presumably the "Master" mentioned in the notebook.

But his face wasn't a human face.

The face was made up of countless shards of glass, each reflecting a different face: a man's, a woman's, a child's, an old person's... and the butler's.

【The owner in the mirror, Lv.???】

[Type: Mysterious Mirror Realm]

[Hint: It has collected everyone's faces, but yours is missing.]

Zhou Lang frowned.

He raised the oil lamp and shone it on his reflection in the mirror. The green light enveloped the dark figure, who froze for a second before resuming his movements.

An oil lamp isn't as effective for it.

The person in the mirror raised their hand and pointed in Zhou Lang's direction. The surrounding sixty-six mirrors trembled simultaneously, and the same image appeared in each mirror: Zhou Lang's face.

No, not his face—it was his terrified face.

The mirror reflected his terrified expressions, each one different: some screaming, some crying, some desperately pounding on the mirror. It was like a scene captured from a parallel world.

Zhao Qiang's legs went weak and he almost sat down on the ground.

But Zhou Lang tilted his head, his expression indifferent.

"My acting is terrible," he said. "I don't look like that."

He genuinely wouldn't make that kind of expression. It's not because he's brave, but because his fear circuitry is on a different wavelength than most people's. What others fear is more of a source of curiosity for him; he's had this problem since childhood.

The person in the mirror paused for a moment, as if encountering this reaction for the first time.

Zhou Lang began to observe the details. Sixty-five of the sixty-six mirrors were playing his "fear," except for the largest mirror directly in front of him, which remained blank. In the center of the blank mirror was a crack, as thin as a hair.

The system popped up another notification:

The core of the master within the mirror is the mirror itself; destroying the mirror will eliminate the master within the mirror.

The conditions for passing the level are very straightforward.

The question is how to do it. The owner in the mirror is floating in front of the main mirror, and its level is displayed as a question mark—either extremely high, or the system is deliberately hiding it. In either case, a direct confrontation is unwise.

Zhou Lang did something that neither Zhao Qiang nor Han Yingying expected.

He turned off the oil lamp.

The entire Hall of Mirrors was plunged into darkness in an instant.

"Zhou Lang!" Han Yingying called out.

A rustling sound came from the darkness; it was Zhou Lang rummaging through his pockets.

Then--

With a buzzing sound.

The chainsaw started.

The roar of the motor echoed repeatedly in the enclosed spherical space, making all the mirrors buzz. Then came the sound of shattering, one side, two sides, three sides—Zhou Lang swept across the darkness with his chainsaw, sawing the mirrors to pieces one by one.

He can't see it, and neither can the person in the mirror—in the darkness there is no light to reflect, so the mirror is useless.

"Zhao Qiang! Count!" Zhou Lang roared.

Zhao Qiang paused for a second before realizing what was happening and began counting the cracking sounds.

"Fourteen... Fifteen... Sixteen..."

The sound of shattering continued, interspersed with the screams of the person reflected in the mirror, sounding like metal being broken. Zhou Lang used his memory to pinpoint the location; wherever the chainsaw went, the mirror shattered.

"Forty-one...forty-two..."

Something grabbed Zhou Lang's shoulder, cold fingertips digging into his flesh. Zhou Lang ignored it, and instead pushed the chainsaw in that direction. A sharp scraping sound came at the moment of contact, and the hand released its grip.

"Sixty-one...sixty-two...sixty-three...sixty-four...sixty-five!"

Zhao Qiang stopped shouting at sixty-five.

Zhou Lang also stopped.

The chainsaw was turned off, the roaring sound disappeared, and the clanging of broken glass falling to the ground gradually stopped.

In the darkness, only one sound remained—the panting of the person reflected in the mirror. No, not panting, but more like a rapid tremor.

"Only one side is left." Zhou Lang relit the oil lamp.

Green light illuminated the space, and the shattered mirrors scattered on the floor reflected a few specks of light. The mirrors in the spherical space were completely smashed, except for the largest body mirror directly in front, which remained intact, though the cracks were still visible.

The owner in the mirror huddled in front of the original mirror, his body covered in fragmented faces like shattered mirror lenses, leaving only one last face—the butler's face.

"You..." it said in a hoarse voice, "You're not afraid at all."

"What are you afraid of?" Zhou Lang stepped forward. "Afraid of you?"

He did not use a chainsaw.

He took out scissors from his pocket, aimed them at the hairline crack on the lens, and inserted the tips of the scissors.

Then twist it hard.

The crack widened.

The mirror shattered.

The body of the person in the mirror shattered into countless points of light, each point reflecting a face—those swallowed by it displayed various expressions before the light dissipated. Some were crying, some were laughing.

Ding--

Congratulations on completing the hidden quest: Lord of the Hall of Mirrors!

[Rating: S]

[Rewards being processed...]

Another S.

Zhao Qiang got up from the ground, his knees cut in several places by shards of glass. He looked at the ruins, then at Zhou Lang standing there with scissors in hand. He wanted to say something, but in the end, he only managed to stammer, "It was too noisy of you to smash the mirror with a chainsaw."

"As long as it's practical, that's fine." Zhou Lang put the scissors back into his pocket.

Han Yingying looked at Zhou Lang's retreating figure, unable to describe her feelings.

How exactly is this person's brain circuit structured?

When faced with an unseen, eerie entity, others' first reaction is to run. His first reaction was to turn off the lights—because mirrors are useless in the dark. Then he took a chainsaw and smashed it piece by piece—because after smashing sixty-five pieces, only the last one would remain.

This isn't courage; it's pure logical deduction. But anyone else under that kind of pressure would be unable to make such a calm judgment.

It's not that he's not afraid, it's that fear isn't a priority in his mind.

This kind of person... is terrifying.

It also makes people feel at ease.

The Hall of Mirrors collapsed. The spherical space, now unsupported by the mirrors, began to shrink, and the three quickly ran out. After bursting through the red door, it vanished silently behind them, leaving only an ordinary white wall.

Meanwhile, the entire manor was changing. The countless ghosts in the corridors vanished one by one, like ice melting in the sunlight. The mold on the walls faded, and the yellowed wallpaper returned to its original ivory white.

The manor is awake.

The three of them stood in the second-floor corridor watching all of this happen.

The butler appeared at the top of the stairs. Its steps were much slower than usual, and something flickered in its empty eye sockets—not malice, but more like a feeling of relief.

"Well done," it said to Zhou Lang.

The voice was no longer a mechanical broadcaster's tone, but the voice of a normal man, hoarse with the marks of time.

Zhou Lang looked at it: "You're the butler."

"It's not like that anymore." The butler looked down at his withered hands. "After I died in the basement, that mirror created a substitute in my image. It used my identity to control the manor, trapping everyone who came here. My consciousness was suppressed in this empty shell, and all I could do was pay you salaries—that's the rule set by the mirror; it likes to play this game."