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

Zhou Lang stomped the mud off his shoes and looked up at the three-story wooden building in front of him. The wooden planks were blackened, and a faded red lantern hung from the eaves.

"What kind of guesthouse is this? I'd believe it if you told me it was a scene from a ghost story." Zhao Qiang rubbed the goosebumps on his arms and shrank behind Zhou Lang.

Han Yingying tied her long hair into a high ponytail and casually adjusted her backpack strap. "System panel updated. Survived for seven days. Number of anomalies: seven."

The three of them stepped across the threshold. A musty smell filled the hall, mixed with the odor of cheap perfume and paint.

Several young people were sprawled out on the sofa, with drawing boards and paint tubes scattered all over the floor.

The art students were chattering incessantly.

"Boss! Are you even doing business or not? We've come all this way to sketch, and we can't even get a sip of hot water!" A boy with dyed yellow hair slammed his fist on the front desk.

Zhou Lang ignored them and walked straight to the notice board on the wall. A yellowed check-in notice was posted there.

First, enjoy the town's scenery during the day.

Second, please stay in your own rooms at night.

Third, no matter what noise you hear, never open the door before dawn.

Zhou Lang took out the oil lamp and tossed it in his hand.

"Brother Lang, what should we do this time?" Zhao Qiang leaned over and whispered.

"Let's find a room first." Zhou Lang turned and walked towards the stairwell. The wooden stairs creaked underfoot, clearly indicating years of disrepair.

The second-floor corridor is long and narrow, with double wooden doors on both sides.

Zhou Lang pushed open the door to room 204. The room wasn't large; it contained two single beds, a worn-out wardrobe, and a sink in the corner. The faucet was dripping.

Han Yingying lives in apartment 205 next door.

"Something's not right here." Zhou Lang threw his backpack on the bed and pulled back the curtains. Outside, the sky was a hazy gray.

"What's wrong?" Zhao Qiang plopped down on the edge of the bed, the bed board emitting a scream.

Zhou Lang pointed to the windowsill. "The thickness of the dust. This building has been abandoned for at least half a year. Those students downstairs, with their strong sense of life, are too out of place in this environment."

"You mean, they're players too?"

"No, they are NPCs in the instance. Or rather, sacrifices." Zhou Lang walked to the sink and turned on the faucet.

The water that flowed out had a rusty red hue and a fishy stench.

"This instance has a bug." Zhou Lang turned off the tap and shook the water droplets off his hands.

Zhao Qiang's eyes widened. "What bug?"

Zhou Lang didn't answer. He came here to look for clues. The system had warned him that this place had been forcibly altered by a high-level force.

S-class.

The meaning of this letter is clear to those who know. The eeriness of this place has exceeded all limits.

The process, which should have been proceeding step by step, is now completely messed up.

"Don't sleep too soundly at night. Call me if anything comes." Zhou Lang left these words and turned to go out.

He needs to thoroughly survey the building before dark.

Downstairs, the students had already been assigned to rooms and dispersed.

Zhou Lang found the kitchen in the backyard on the first floor. The stove was covered with a thick layer of grease, and several bags of moldy flour were piled in the corner.

A red lantern hangs from the ceiling. It has a unique shape, and its surface is covered with fine patterns, like human pores.

Human skin lantern.

Zhou Lang leaned closer and smelled it; there was no candle smell, only the scent of face powder.

"What are you looking at?" Han Yingying was standing at the door at some point.

"Look at the lanterns," Zhou Lang pointed to the sky.

"This is the pent-up resentment of a housewife." Han Yingying flipped through her notebook. "I just found a work diary in the front desk drawer. The owner of this guesthouse has disappeared. She claims she ran off with someone. Also, a female college student from town who worked here had an accident."

Zhou Lang nodded. "This contains a lot of information."

He walked to the well in the yard and peered down. The well water was dark and murky, reflecting no light at all.

"There's something in this well." Zhou Lang picked up a stone and threw it in.

After waiting for a long time, I didn't hear the sound of something falling into the water.

"It got caught." Zhou Lang dusted off his hands. "Let's go, it's getting dark."

The two returned to the lobby. The group of art students were gathered around a table eating instant noodles.

"Hey, you two, want to grab something to eat together?" the blond-haired boy called out.

Zhou Lang glanced at him. "No need."

The blond-haired guy, feeling slighted, muttered a few words under his breath.

The clock hand points to 8 p.m.

The sky outside the window had completely darkened. A wind picked up, making the wooden window frame rattle loudly.

Zhou Lang returned to room 204. Zhao Qiang had already barred the door shut with a chair and was huddled under the covers.

"Brother Lang, I'm scared." Zhao Qiang poked his head out.

"If you're scared, just close your eyes." Zhou Lang pulled over a chair and sat down behind the door with an air of authority.

An oil lamp sat at his feet, its flame no bigger than a bean.

It was late at night. The corridor was quiet.

According to the rules, on the first day, the supernatural beings cannot enter the room. They can only roam outside.

But this is a mutated copy. How much of the rules can we still trust?

Midnight.

Footsteps echoed from the end of the corridor.

Da, da, da.

It was very light and slow. Like walking barefoot on a wooden floor.

The footsteps stopped outside door 204.

A puddle of water seeped in from under the door. The water stain slowly spread, carrying a pungent, fishy stench.

Long hair was mixed in with the water.

Zhou Lang didn't move. He stared at the puddle of water.

"Open the door..." a woman's voice called from outside the door. The voice was hoarse, like sandpaper rubbing against glass.

Zhao Qiang trembled like a leaf in his quilt.

Zhou Lang stood up, walked to the door, and bent down.

He whistled through the crack in the door.

The woman's voice outside the door stopped abruptly.

"Who's outside?" Zhou Lang asked in a low voice, feigning an eerie tone.

There was no movement outside the door.

Zhou Lang took out the scissors he used to cut the lock and inserted them through the crack in the door.

"Ouch!" came a cry of pain from outside the door.

Zhou Lang pulled out the scissors, a strand of black hair hanging from the tip of the blade.

"Coming to visit on your first day, don't you know the rules?" Zhou Lang threw the black hair into the oil lamp. The flames shot up half a meter high, emitting a burnt smell.

The footsteps outside the door faded into the distance.

Zhou Lang sat back down in his chair. "Done."

Zhao Qiang poked his head out and gave a thumbs up. "Brother Lang, your ghost-scaring skills are getting better and better."

Zhou Lang didn't reply. He stared at the water stains under the door.

The puddle of water didn't recede; instead, it slowly seeped into the wooden planks through the cracks in the floor.

This building has come alive.

They are repeating the pain they suffered before their death. Day after day, they are trapped in a vicious cycle.

This is the cycle of reincarnation caused by S-class power. The resentment keeps fermenting in this cycle, and sooner or later it will burst this instance.

He has to find the source. That S-class anomaly that disrupted the balance.

Its daybreak.

The sunlight outside the window was pale and felt cold against my skin.

Zhou Lang kicked aside the chair at the top of the door and opened the door. The hallway was spotless; the water stains and hair from last night were nowhere to be seen.

Han Yingying came out from next door, her eyes dark-rimmed. "Someone was knocking on the door last night. They knocked all night."

"It's not open, is it?" Zhou Lang asked.

"No. But I heard noises from next door." Han Yingying pointed to the door of room 206.

That was the room where several art students lived.

Zhou Lang walked over, grasped the doorknob, and turned it. The door wasn't locked.

Pushing open the door, a stench of blood hit me.

The blond-haired boy lay sprawled on the bed, his chest ripped open and his internal organs removed. Scrambled symbols were drawn in blood on the wall.

"One of them died." Zhou Lang's tone was completely flat.