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

Li Feng's expression was not good.

Zhou Lang had been observing those "people".

The woman in the floral apron—today the red marks on her neck were even deeper. And, as she mopped the floor, a glimpse of her calf would occasionally peek out from under the hem of her apron, the skin translucent, like lantern paper.

Human skin lantern.

These four words popped into Zhou Lang's mind.

He looked at the shop owner again. The shop owner stood behind the counter with a smile, but Zhou Lang noticed that his back was pressed against the wall—always pressed against it, from morning till night, never leaving the wall for more than a step.

It felt like it was stuck to the wall by something.

Cement wall.

Then look at the proprietress. The giant woman busies herself in the kitchen, her movements slow, as if walking on water. Her hair is constantly wet—not because it's been washed and left to dry, but because it's dripping.

Drowning.

Zhou Lang got goosebumps all over. He saw the shadow of night in the daytime.

"Zhao Qiang, Han Yingying," he whispered, calling them aside. "I have something to tell you."

"You mean, those people are the ghosts of the night?" Zhao Qiang's expression changed.

"Yes. They're human during the day and switch to a dead state at night." Zhou Lang recounted the details he observed: "The woman in the floral apron is a human skin lantern, the boss is stuck in a cement wall, the boss's wife drowned, and the couple burned to death—look closely at the backs of those two young people's hands; there are blister marks."

Han Yingying turned around and stole a glance at the couple by the window.

The girl looked up and smiled at her.

Han Yingying shuddered and turned back.

"What about the female college student?" she asked.

"I'm not sure. But she has marks on her neck from being strangled, and she always walks with her legs crossed."

Zhao Qiang swore.

"The problem is, what's the use of knowing all this?" Zhao Qiang said. "What if they manage to get into the room completely on the third night—"

"It's not certain that they can launch an attack," Zhou Lang said. "I think this escalation follows a pattern. They can't get in on the first night, they extend a little on the second night, and they might be able to get in on the third night but can't make a move. It's like they're testing the limits."

"You bet?"

"It's not a gamble, it's a guess. But in any case, we definitely won't be able to hold on until the fourth night," Zhou Lang said. "So we have at most two days to prepare."

"What are you preparing?"

Zhou Lang lowered his voice even further: "I think there are hidden conditions for clearing this dungeon."

Zhao Qiang and Han Ying exchanged a glance.

How did you know?

"Think about it. An A-rank dungeon, seven days to survive. But the ghosts' abilities increase every day, making it impossible to survive by defense alone in the later days. So what exactly does the 'system' that designed this dungeon want us to do?"

Han Yingying thought for a moment: "...Is it related to ghosts?"

"It's related to their experiences in life," Zhou Lang said. "I don't think those ghosts are purely monsters. They have identities, memories, and stories from their past lives. If we can find the cause of their deaths—no, not just the cause of death, but also how to dispel their resentment…"

"You're crazy," Zhao Qiang said. "Helping ghosts resolve their resentment? This isn't charity!"

"This is about survival."

The three remained silent for a while.

"How exactly do we do it?" Han Yingying asked.

"I talk to them during the day," Zhou Lang said. "They are in a human-like state during the day, with normal thinking and memory. I need to get their stories out of them."

"And what about us?"

"Keep an eye on the other players for me. Don't let anyone alert them—especially that officer Li Feng. He's obsessed with violent elimination. If he takes action against those 'people' during the day, the consequences will be unimaginable."

With the tasks assigned, Zhou Lang began to take action.

The first woman he approached was wearing a floral apron.

"Sis, are you busy?" Zhou Lang moved a chair and sat down next to her.

The woman was wiping a lantern—the one hanging behind the counter in the lobby. A pink-glazed lantern.

"Yes, I have to wipe it every day," she said softly. "This lantern is a family heirloom; it can't be allowed to get dusty."

"It's beautiful." Zhou Lang stared at the lantern for two seconds. "What's it made of?"

The woman paused for a moment.

"...sheepskin," she said.

No.

Zhou Lang didn't press the matter. He changed the subject: "You live here alone? Where's your family?"

"My husband is away on business and doesn't come home often," the woman said, continuing to wipe the lantern with her head down. "He's busy, there's nothing I can do about it."

"What kind of business do you do?"

"...I don't know." The woman's voice softened further. "He won't tell me."

Zhou Lang understood something. This woman had been marginalized even while she was alive—her husband cheated on her and never came home, leaving her to run the inn alone. In the end, she was made into a lantern.

Did she know she was already dead?

"That lantern—"

Before he could finish speaking, a commotion came from outside the door.

Zhou Lang got up and walked out. A group of people had gathered in the courtyard, with Li Feng and his two soldiers standing in the middle. Opposite them was—

The proprietress.

The towering woman, standing at 1.85 meters tall, stood in the kitchen doorway, carrying a pot of soup. Li Feng held a dagger, pointing it at her.

"I told you to let her out." Li Feng's voice was tense. "This woman isn't alive. The hand that came out of the tap last night was hers—I recognize the size of that hand."

Zhou Lang felt a chill run down his spine.

The proprietress stood there motionless, her expression blank. She seemed completely unaware of what had happened.

"What do you want to do?" Zhou Lang strode forward and stood between the two.

"Get out of the way," Li Feng said. "I am the commander of this operation."

"There's no commander in the instance," Zhou Lang said. "You attacked her during the day; do you know what the consequences will be?"

"The consequences?" Li Feng gripped the dagger tightly. "The consequences are that by the fourth or fifth day, we'll all be dead here! Rather than wait to die, it's better to—"

"Can you kill him?"

These four words stunned Li Feng.

Zhou Lang turned to look at the proprietress, then turned back: "She's part of a four-star ghost. Even if she were in human form during the day—do you think you could stab her with a dagger?"

Li Feng's hand trembled slightly. He wasn't afraid; he was hesitant.

"Even if you could manage to break through," Zhou Lang continued, "the rules don't say you can kill ghosts during the day. How do you know that killing one won't cause the other five to go berserk at night?"

Someone in the crowd chimed in, "Yeah, what if we anger them?"

"We haven't even fully figured out what happened last night, so don't act rashly," Uncle Lin said.

Li Feng stood there, his face alternating between pale and flushed. He was a soldier, used to striking first. But this wasn't a battlefield; this was a dungeon. Dungeons have their own rules.

He finally sheathed his dagger, but left with the words, "If your method doesn't work on the fourth night, I'll take charge."

After saying that, he left with his men.

Zhou Lang breathed a sigh of relief. He turned to look at the proprietress—the woman stood still, holding the soup pot steadily, but her lips were trembling slightly.

She was afraid.

Even a ghost can be afraid during the day.