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

Han Yingying sat up in bed.

The curtains weren't fully drawn, and light seeped in through the gaps, cutting a white line across the floor. She was stunned for a few seconds before she realized—the dungeon was over, and she was back in reality.

The final stage of the haunted manor went more smoothly than expected. Zhou Lang found the heart of the manor in the basement—a constantly beating heart embedded in the wall. Zhao Qiang stayed behind to cover their retreat, while she cleared away the vengeful spirits surging from the side passages. When Zhou Lang sliced ​​open the heart with a chainsaw, the entire manor shook violently, and all the ghosts turned into black smoke and vanished.

Then she woke up.

Han Yingying picked up her phone from the bedside table—Wednesday, 7:12 AM.

She stared at the date on the screen, her brows slowly furrowing.

I returned from the first dungeon run on Wednesday. I returned from the second dungeon run on Wednesday. The third time, also on Wednesday.

She pulled a notebook from the drawer. This was a habit she'd developed after the second copy; every time she came back, she'd record the date, the weather, and the first three news items pushed to her phone's homepage. She flipped to the beginning and compared them one by one.

Date: Wednesday. Weather: Cloudy turning sunny. First news item: "Renovation project of downtown shopping mall completed ahead of schedule."

Word for word.

Even the time when the steamed bun vendor outside the window shouts "Hot, hot!" hasn't changed; it's always 7:15.

Han Yingying put down her notebook, her mind racing. She hadn't thought much about it before, always feeling lingering fear after each dungeon run, so she hadn't had time to ponder the details of the real world. But after the trials of three dungeons, her observational skills were far superior to those of the newbie who almost died in the tutorial.

She got dressed and went out, intending to go to an internet cafe to look up some information. There were many posts online about the strange occurrences, but most were blocked. She had previously saved a few links on an underground forum—

The mark on my wrist became visible.

Han Yingying: "..."

It came at just the right time.

A white light enveloped her entire body, and her vision vanished only to reappear. When she opened her eyes again, she was standing on a deserted street.

Thick fog rolled in from all directions, reducing visibility to less than ten meters. The streets were lined with old brick houses, their windows completely black, with only a few hanging strips of cloth fluttering in the wind. A damp, rotten smell permeated the air, mixed with a faint, sweet, fishy odor.

A system message appeared before my eyes—

[Fourth Dungeon: Foglocken Town]

[Mission: Uncover the truth behind the townspeople's disappearance and survive for three days]

[Dungeon Difficulty: Rank A]

[Current number of participants: 5]

"Han Yingying!"

She looked in the direction of the sound and saw Zhao Qiang running across the street, his chubby face covered in sweat. "We bumped into each other again! That's great! I was worried I'd be alone—"

A person was following behind Zhao Qiang.

Zhou Lang emerged from the fog with his hands in his pockets, his pace unhurried. He glanced around, his gaze finally settling on Han Yingying, and nodded slightly.

Han Yingying nodded as well.

"We're missing two players; two more haven't shown up yet," Zhao Qiang said, wiping his sweat. "We don't know who they are."

Before the words were even finished, the sound of arguing came from the alley entrance.

"I told you to go left, but you insisted on going right. Now look what happened! We've reached a dead end!"

"Shut up, your sense of direction is worse than mine when I point it out randomly."

Two people emerged from the alley. The man in front, a man in his early twenties with a square face, wore a wrinkled work jacket and looked quite strong. Behind him followed a girl with a ponytail, petite and thin, but with a loud voice.

Their eyes met, and the man spoke first: "You guys are players too?"

"Otherwise, townspeople?" Zhao Qiang retorted.

The man choked for a moment. The girl with the ponytail pushed him aside and stepped forward: "My name is Su Xiao, and this is Fang Yi. This is our third time entering the dungeon. What about you?"

"The fourth time," Han Yingying said.

Su Xiao's eyes lit up, and her gaze toward Han Yingying became more serious—no, not serious, but the kind of scrutiny that said, "An old player is indeed different."

Fang Yi glanced at Zhou Lang: "And you?"

"More or less," Zhou Lang said.

Fang Yi waited for two seconds and realized that the other party did not intend to say another word.

The atmosphere was a little awkward.

"Alright, let's scout ahead first." Han Yingying broke the silence. "The fog is so thick, the five of us shouldn't split up."

The five walked along the main street toward the town center. Fog-shrouded town wasn't large, but every house was closed, with yellowed seals on the doors. Zhao Qiang peered into a window, and with a "thud," something bumped into him from inside.

Zhao Qiang plopped down on the ground.

Zhou Lang didn't even turn his head: "Don't touch it."

"You should have told me beforehand!" Zhao Qiang got up and patted his pants.

Su Xiao whispered to Fang Yi, "Who's that guy with his hands in his pockets?"

Fang Yi shook his head.

The first day was relatively safe, and the five of them got a general idea of ​​the town's layout. In the town center was a square with a stone tablet engraved with countless names—all the names of the townspeople. At the bottom of the tablet was a line of smaller characters: "Those chosen by the fog will perish if they do not return home at night."

The meaning is clear: they must find a house to take refuge before dark.

"Five people, and three houses on this street haven't been sealed off," Han Yingying pointed. "Distribute them."

"Two people, two people, one person?" Zhao Qiang immediately said, "I'm sharing a room with Brother Lang."

Fang Yi and Su Xiao exchanged a glance and did not object.

Han Yingying was assigned to a private room. She had no objections—after several dungeon runs, being alone actually helped her concentrate better.

The sky darkened incredibly quickly. One second you could still see the outline of the street, and the next the fog turned pitch black, and you couldn't see anything at all.

Han Yingying locked the doors and windows and searched the room for useful clues. The first floor consisted of a living room and kitchen, with a diary on the table. She opened it; it recorded the daily lives of the townspeople: going to the market, farming, and performing rituals—

Wait, a sacrificial ceremony?

The diary reads: "After the fog came, Granny Li said she wanted to offer a sacrifice. We didn't believe her. On the third day, Old Zhang was gone."

Han Yingying was engrossed in watching when a faint sound came from the direction of the kitchen.

She put down her diary and held her breath.

A grayish-white hand was slowly reaching in from under the door.

Han Yingying took a step back and activated her skill – [Spiritual Vision].

Her vision changed instantly. The grayish-white hand was no longer an ordinary hand, but a tangled mess of black threads, the source of which was connected to something enormous in the fog outside.

This hand isn't a ghost; it's bait.

Han Yingying grabbed the kitchen knife from the table and chopped at the point where the black thread was attached. The black thread snapped, the hand twitched twice, and then disappeared through the crack in the door.

A sharp screech came from outside, growing louder as it faded into the distance.

It's quiet now.

Han Yingying stood at the kitchen door with a kitchen knife in her hand, waiting for a full five minutes before finally letting out a sigh of relief after confirming there was no second wave.

The five people gathered in the square early the next morning.

"Was everything alright last night?" Han Yingying asked.

Zhao Qiang raised his hand: "Something was knocking on our window. Brother Lang opened the window, poured a basin of salt water on it, and ran away."

Fang Yi: "A faceless woman came to our area and stood at the door all night."