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

The one on the right—

Zhou Lang's gaze lingered for a moment.

She was a young woman, in her early twenties, wearing a black windbreaker with the hood pulled up above her eyebrows. Her right hand was always in her pocket, and she was standing about two meters away from the other two people.

They are not in cahoots.

The man with the buzz cut spoke first: "You three are the ones who've been causing trouble, right?"

Zhao Qiang shrank back behind Zhou Lang warily: "Who are you?"

"Lin Ke." The woman with glasses pushed up her glasses. "This is Sun Ming. We saw your combat footage outside the dungeon before, and it left a deep impression on us."

"Which union do you belong to?" Han Yingying asked.

"We're independent, not affiliated with any guild." Sun Ming cracked his neck, his joints popping. "But the First Guild is recruiting recently, and we're considering it."

Zhou Lang didn't participate in the small talk; he kept looking at the woman in the black windbreaker.

"And you?"

The other person didn't speak.

"She's been like this ever since she was teleported here, not saying a word." Sun Ming raised an eyebrow. "Maybe she's socially awkward?"

The woman in the windbreaker finally raised her head and glanced at everyone. Her gaze was cold, like scanning merchandise on a shelf—she looked at each person, then lingered a little longer on Zhou Lang and Han Yingying.

Zhou Lang noticed it.

He remained silent.

The system notification sound for the instance rang out at that moment—

Welcome to the eighth instance – "The Last Subway"

[Mission Instructions: You are passengers on the last subway train. The train will arrive in ten minutes. Please find your tickets before the train arrives. Passengers without tickets will be stranded on the platform indefinitely.]

[Note: There are more than just the six of you on the platform.]

The moment the announcement ended, a sharp screech of metal scraping against the ground came from the end of the platform.

What is moving on the tracks?

"Ticket?" Zhao Qiang looked around. "What ticket? Where is it?"

No one answered him. Everyone stared toward the tracks. The metallic scraping sound had faded, and the tunnel entrance fell silent again, but no one believed it was an illusion.

Zhou Lang held up an oil lamp, but the green light couldn't reach the depths of the tunnel; he could only see the shimmering water reflecting off the railway tracks.

"Ten minutes." Han Yingying looked at the countdown on the panel. "We need to split up and search."

"Split up?" Zhao Qiang's face turned pale. "Didn't you hear the system say there are more than six of us on the platform? Splitting up means we're just delivering vegetables, right?"

"If we don't split up, ten minutes won't be enough." Lin Ke scanned the platform's layout, speaking quickly. "The platform is divided into three sections: a waiting area on the left, center, and right, plus two duty rooms and a restroom. With six people and six tickets, they'll most likely be scattered in different locations."

Sun Ming clenched his fist: "Then let's pair up."

"I'm in a group with Zhou Lang," Han Yingying said naturally.

Zhao Qiang opened his mouth, looking abandoned, but quickly came to terms with it—being in the same group as Lang Ge was safe, but Lang Ge's methods were too wild, and his heart couldn't take it.

"I'll go with you two." Zhao Qiang looked at Lin Ke and Sun Ming.

Lin Ke nodded, then turned to the woman in the windbreaker: "And you? With us?"

The woman in the windbreaker had already walked to the left side of the platform without turning her head.

"Alright, she'll go it alone." Sun Ming shrugged. "Then we'll go to the right, and you two go in the middle."

Zhou Lang had no objection. The three groups quickly dispersed.

The middle waiting area was larger than I had imagined. Two rows of plastic seats were overturned on the ground, and the walls were covered with GG paper—or it used to be GG paper, but now all the pictures on it had been changed to the same face.

A woman smiling.

Each poster is taken from a different angle, as if with different cameras, but the smile is exactly the same: the corners of the mouth stretch to the ears, revealing neatly arranged teeth, while the eyes are closed.

Han Yingying looked at it for two seconds and then looked away. "Is the woman on GG weird?"

"It's hard to say, don't touch it yet." Zhou Lang rummaged through the gap in the seat, his fingers touching a cold, hard object. He pulled it out and looked at it—a metal train ticket with a line of small print embossed on it:

[Last Train - Seat 3]

"Found one."

Han Yingying also found a ticket in the corner trash can. Two tickets, six people, four more needed.

Zhou Lang put the ticket in his pocket, and as he turned his head, he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye—

A face peeked out from behind a pillar at the far end of the waiting area.

His face was ashen, the veins beneath his skin were clearly visible, and his eyes bulged out, staring intently at them.

Han Yingying saw it too. She didn't cry out, but took a small step back and touched the dagger behind her back.

The other half of the face shrank back.

"They're catching up," Zhou Lang said in a low voice.

They quickened their search. With six minutes left on the countdown, Sun Ming's shout came from the right: "Found two! But something's chasing us!"

Immediately following was Zhao Qiang's scream—not a scream of being attacked, but a scream of terror.

"Holy shit, that woman crawled out of the poster—"

Zhou Lang took off running to the right. Han Yingying followed behind, and the two almost bumped into someone as they crossed the connecting passage.

A woman in a windbreaker.

She was holding a train ticket and was coming from the left. Their eyes met, and Zhou Lang noticed bloodstains on the cuff of her windbreaker—not hers.

"Excuse me." The woman in the windbreaker's voice was low and hoarse, like sandpaper grinding wood.

Zhou Lang stepped aside to let him pass.

In the blink of an eye, he noticed a slight movement in the woman's right hand, which was tucked into her pocket—her fingers shifted slightly.

That wasn't an unconscious little action.

It's a habitual reaction to adjust your grip on the knife.

Zhou Lang said nothing and continued to rush to the right with Han Yingying.

The waiting area on the right was in complete chaos. Two women from the posters twisted and contorted as they squeezed out of the paper, their movements like snakes shedding their skin, pushing themselves segment by segment from two-dimensional to three-dimensional. After landing, they straightened up, their heads tilted at impossible angles, and walked towards Zhao Qiang and his group.

Zhao Qiang hid behind Sun Ming, who pulled out an iron pipe from somewhere and swung it around, smashing it on one of the women's heads.

The woman's head was tilted ninety degrees, but her body was still moving forward.

"You can't kill me!" Sun Ming took two steps back.

Lin Ke rummaged through the lockers in the waiting area: "The last ticket should be around here—found it!"

All six tickets are in hand.

Countdown: 02:33.

"Withdraw! Regroup in the middle section!" Zhou Lang shouted.

The six people ran towards the middle section, and the poster women behind them did not chase after them—they stood still, slowly turned around, their smiles unchanged, but their closed eyes opened.

The eye sockets were empty.

As I returned to the middle platform, a rumbling vibration came from the direction of the tracks. The lights flickered a few times, and a subway train emerged from the tunnel, moving very slowly, its metal carriages covered in rust and unidentified stains.

The train came to a stop, and the doors opened. The inside was empty; the lights were a stark white, and the seats had numbers on them.