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

At the end of the basement stairs, there was no monster lair as expected. Instead, a portal emitting a faint blue glow stood silently in place.

The system settlement notification sounded precisely on time. Zhao Qiang chose to stay, and thanks to the foundation Zhou Lang had laid for him, the kid had unwittingly become a semi-manager of the Terror Manor. Zhou Lang didn't stop him; everyone has their own destiny, and this wasn't necessarily a bad way to survive. He and Han Yingying stepped into the portal one after the other.

The air in the real world always smelled of car exhaust. Zhou Lang went downstairs to the convenience store and bought two boxes of instant noodles. The water had just boiled, and before he could even tear open the seasoning packet, that familiar dizzying feeling of his internal organs being thrown into a washing machine came over him again.

Playing games non-stop. It's really killing me.

I opened my eyes, and the pungent smell of Lysol hit my nostrils. Large areas of plaster had peeled off the walls, revealing moldy, blackened red bricks underneath. The incandescent light bulb overhead was malfunctioning, emitting a buzzing sound and flickering light.

Zhou Lang looked down at his hands. He was clutching a cardboard medical record folder, its edges already worn through. A plastic name tag was pinned to his chest: Intern, Zhou Lang.

He felt his pocket; the oil lamp was still there. Beneath the skin, the fused bandaged ghost was in a dormant state, like a cold, limp loach coiled in its stomach.

"It's you again." A deep male voice came from the side.

Zhou Lang tilted his head. It was an acquaintance. The boxer who survived the last dungeon was named Taishan. This burly man was currently wearing a security guard uniform, carrying a rubber baton in his hand. The uniform was stretched taut, as if it might tear at any moment.

"Quite a coincidence," Zhou Lang replied casually.

Beside the triage desk on the right, Han Yingying, dressed in a nurse's uniform, was adjusting her cuffs. She looked up and saw Zhou Lang, but didn't speak, only giving a barely perceptible nod. Including this time, the two were already old acquaintances. She knew very well Zhou Lang's unusual thought process; in a place like this, following him offered the best chance of survival.

There were nine people in the hall. Besides the three of them, there were six unfamiliar faces.

A middle-aged woman in a white coat, with a name tag that read "Director of Obstetrics and Gynecology, Chen Fang".

A young man in a silk nightgown, sitting in a wheelchair, is scratching his head in frustration.

A gaunt man, coughing up blood while covering his mouth, wore a loosely draped hospital gown.

The remaining four, judging from their expressions and actions, were just ordinary casual players, huddled in a corner looking around.

The electronic clock at the front of the lobby shows: 19:00.

The radio suddenly went off, with the distorted sound characteristic of an old loudspeaker.

"Welcome to Horrifying Hospital. Dungeon Difficulty: A."

"This place was once the last hope for life; now it is a forbidden zone for the living."

"Background: The director of this institute is dedicated to researching miracle drugs and has accepted investment from wealthy businessmen. Please uncover the truth behind these miracle drugs."

Rule 1: Medical staff must strictly adhere to the shift schedule, and patients must take their medication on time. Those who violate this rule will bear the consequences themselves.

"Rule 2: From 22:00 to 6:00 the next morning, you are not allowed to leave your assigned ward or duty room."

Rule 3: Never go against your doctor's diagnosis.

The broadcast has ended. The sound of rubber-soled shoes scraping against the terrazzo floor echoed from the corridor deep within the hall.

A woman in a head nurse's uniform pushed a stainless steel medicine cart out. She wore a nurse's cap, kept her head down, and her bangs covered most of her face.

Zhou Lang stared at the floor tiles. The ceiling light shone down, and the head nurse's feet felt empty. There was no shadow.

Interestingly, a dark purple lividity was visible on the back of the head nurse's neck.

"The schedule has been sent to your medical record folders," the head nurse said, her voice dry and flat, like two pieces of sandpaper rubbing together. "Patient, come with me to complete the admission procedures."

The young man in the wheelchair protested. He slammed his fist on the armrest: "What procedures?! My dad is Li Tiancheng! This lousy hospital's lab building was donated by my family! Tell your director to get out here and see me! My leg needs to be healed today, or I'll smash this place to pieces!"

Young Master Li, the son of a wealthy businessman, enjoys super VIP treatment.

The head nurse stopped in her tracks. She slowly raised her head.

It was a face stitched together with rough needle and thread, with a black hole in its left eye socket and its right eye staring intently at Li Shao.

"Young Master Li, the hospital director is very busy." The head nurse approached the wheelchair. "You need to complete the admission procedures first."

Zhou Lang stood aside, not wanting to get involved. He even took a half-step forward, wanting to see what the head nurse would look like when she was angry. The bandaged ghost within him sensed the presence of its own kind and became restless, its ghost-scare skill's judgment mechanism operating wildly. How many points would he get if he yelled at the head nurse right now?

Li Shao was terrified by that face and stammered as he shrank back.

The man coughing up blood, Old Wu, quickly tried to smooth things over: "Head Nurse, we'll take care of it, we'll take care of it right now."

The head nurse looked away and continued pushing the medicine cart forward. The wheel bearings were low on lubrication, making a screeching sound.

Zhou Lang opened the medical record folder in his hand.

[Intern Zhou Lang, on duty tonight: Intensive Care Unit, third floor of the inpatient ward.]

[Partner nurse: Han Yingying.]

He looked up at Han Yingying. This scheduling system is quite user-friendly.

"Let's go to the department." Zhou Lang closed the medical record folder and casually took a bottle of dry powder fire extinguisher from the fire cabinet at the triage desk.

Dr. Chen Fang frowned as she watched his actions: "What are you going to do with that?"

"For self-defense." Zhou Lang weighed it in his hand. "The medical equipment here might not be very effective; physical exorcism is more reliable."

8:30 PM. Third floor of the inpatient ward.

The smell of Lysol in the air was stronger, mixed with a sweet, fishy smell of rotting meat.

Zhou Lang sat on a swivel chair at the nurses' station, twirling a ballpoint pen in his hand. Han Yingying was flipping through the patient registration book on the table.

"Something's not right," Han Yingying said in a low voice. "In this booklet, the discharge records for patients admitted in the last three months are all blank. Moreover, the signatures of the attending physicians for all the critically ill patients are those of the vice president, 'Wang Defa.' The former president's name has never appeared."

"The apprentice usurps the throne, using patients for human experiments." Zhou Lang stopped twirling his pen. "The same old trick. The question is, what exactly is this miracle drug?"

A violent coughing sound came from the end of the corridor. It was Old Wu. He had been assigned to room 304 on the third floor.

Zhou Lang stood up, carrying a fire extinguisher.

"Where are you going?" Han Yingying asked.

"Ward rounds. The intern's primary job."

Pushing open the door to room 304, Old Wu, who was lying on the edge of the bed, spat a mouthful of thick, bloody phlegm into the spittoon on the floor. Seeing Zhou Lang, he lunged at him like a drowning man grasping at a straw.

"Brother, save me! The nurse just gave me medicine, and the pills were alive! There were bugs crawling inside!" Old Wu pointed to the white paper package on the bedside table, trembling all over.

Zhou Lang walked over and used the tip of his pen to open the paper package.

Two red capsules. Upon closer inspection, the capsule shells are indeed making extremely subtle movements.

"Have you eaten?" Zhou Lang asked.

"I didn't dare to eat it."

"Smart." Zhou Lang swept the capsule into the trash can. "The rules say to take the medicine on time, but they don't say you have to swallow it. Throwing it away counts as taking the medicine."