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

The fifty-odd players were divided into five teams, each with a little over ten players.

Zhou Lang, Zhao Qiang, and Han Yingying were assigned to the third team. There were seven other people in the team, most of whom were unfamiliar faces, except for one person—the captain, whom Zhou Lang had met at the stock exchange.

The team leader, Chen Lang, was in his early thirties, tall and thin, wearing gold-rimmed glasses. He looked more like a university professor than a player. However, Zhou Lang recognized the short sword hanging on his body; it was a two-star ghost weapon called the "Soul-Slicing Blade," listed on the exchange for a bizarre 30,000 points.

"Listen up, everyone." Chen Lang clapped his hands. "Third squad, you're in charge of clearing the east side of the factory workshop. Your objective is to eliminate all low-level monsters. Once it's safe, proceed towards the main building. Any questions?"

No one spoke.

Zhou Lang glanced at the group. Besides the three of them, there were five men and two women among the remaining seven people. One of the girls caught his attention—not because she was pretty, but because she looked too young.

She was seventeen or eighteen years old, looked like a student, with her hair in a ponytail and wearing a school uniform jacket. Among a group of players dressed in tactical gear, she looked like she had wandered onto the wrong set.

What's even stranger is that she didn't have any visible ghost artifacts or props on her.

"Who is that girl?" Zhou Lang asked Zhao Qiang in a low voice.

Zhao Qiang shook his head: "I don't know him, he must be a newcomer."

"Can newcomers be recruited for A-rank dungeons?"

"That's possible," Han Yingying interjected. "I heard that the recruitment standards have been lowered recently; as long as you pass three D-level or higher dungeons, you'll be included in the candidate list."

Zhou Lang frowned. Sending a newbie to fight an A-level dungeon was practically sending them to their deaths.

He thought for a moment, then walked over.

"classmate."

The girl looked up at him, her gaze calm.

"What level player are you?" Zhou Lang asked.

"Just finished the third dungeon," she said softly.

"Level D?"

"Two D-grade and one C-grade."

Zhou Lang was silent for a second. Being pulled into three dungeons to fight A-rank dungeons? This recruitment standard is outrageous.

"Do you have any ghost artifacts?" he asked.

The girl shook her head.

"Where are the props?"

"There is one." She pulled a small object from her pocket—a die, all six sides of which were black.

Zhou Lang didn't recognize this thing.

"What prop?"

"A haunted house," the girl said, "where you can house the supernatural for your own use."

This is indeed a rare item. Zhou Lang had seen similar descriptions in the exchange's intelligence reports—contract-type items, extremely rare. But the problem is—

"How many have you taken in?"

"One."

"What level?"

One star.

Zhou Lang: "..."

A one-star monster came to raid an A-rank dungeon. He looked at the girl's face but didn't see any hint of a joke.

"I'll give you a few defensive talismans." Zhou Lang took two out of his bag. "Use them if you encounter danger; they can hold out for a while."

The girl looked at the talisman he offered, but didn't take it.

"No need," she said.

"This is not the time to be polite," Zhou Lang said.

The girl thought for a moment, then reached out and took it: "Thank you."

"What's your name?"

"Su Nian".

Zhou Lang nodded and returned to Zhao Qiang and Han Yingying's side.

"How is it?" Zhao Qiang asked.

"A newbie, three dungeon experiences, and a one-star monster," Zhou Lang said. "Suicide material."

"Then we'll take good care of you once we're inside," Han Yingying said.

Zhou Lang hummed in agreement, but he knew in his heart that it was difficult to even protect himself in an A-level dungeon, let alone take care of others. He could only hope that this girl named Su Nian would have better luck.

The operation begins.

Five squads entered the factory from different entrances. The third squad took the east cargo passage, where a rusty iron gate was opened by soldiers with a cutter, revealing a dark passageway.

"Go in," Chen Lang commanded.

Eleven people filed in.

There were no lights in the corridor; everyone had turned on their flashlights or other lighting equipment. The beams of light flickered on the walls, illuminating large patches of water stains and mold. There was a rotten smell in the air, not the smell of rotting food, but more like—

"Meat," Zhao Qiang whispered, "the smell of rotten meat."

Zhou Lang took out a chainsaw, but didn't start it; he just held it in his hand. The passage was narrow, and if he started the chainsaw, it might hit his teammates.

After walking about fifty meters, the passageway ended at a large workshop. The moment the door was pushed open, everyone's flashlights shone inside.

The workshop was huge, at least the size of a basketball court. It was filled with discarded machinery, rusted iron frames, and—

"What's that?" someone shouted from the back of the line.

Zhou Lang followed the beam of his flashlight. In the corner of the workshop, there was a bunch of blurry humanoid figures. They were white, like dough balls, and were huddled together, wriggling.

"Low-level weirdness," Chen Lang said. "One-star, about a dozen or so. Everyone spread out, don't huddle together."

The eleven people quickly deployed.

The white, humanoid figures sensed the movement and stood up one by one. They had no facial features, no hair, only a rough human outline, like unfinished clay figures.

I counted them; there were fourteen.

"Up," Chen Lang said.

The third squad rushed forward. The one-star monster wasn't difficult; for these advanced players, it was like chopping grass. Zhou Lang swung his saw, and a white mud figure was cut in two, wriggling a few times before going still.

Zhao Qiang amplified his fist with power, delivering one punch after another with incredible speed and force. Han Yingying stood behind, focusing on healing, and was not needed for the time being.

In less than three minutes, all fourteen one-star monsters were eliminated.

"That's too easy," someone said.

Chen Lang didn't reply. He squatted down next to a strange piece of wreckage and carefully shone his flashlight on it.

"Look at this," he said.

Zhou Lang walked over. The eerie remains were slowly—

Squirming.

The white body, cut in half, has new tissue growing at the cut surface, as if it is trying to reassemble itself.

"The resurrection mechanism is already in effect," Chen Lang said. "The intelligence report stated that the anomalies in this instance would keep resurrecting, and it seems that even the lower-level ones are no exception."

"Then what's the point of clearing it out?" Zhao Qiang asked.

"Resurrection takes time." Chen Lang stood up. "Low-level ones will take about half an hour, while three-star ones might be faster or slower. We must advance to the core area before they resurrect."

"Is half an hour enough?" someone asked.

"I don't know," Chen Lang said honestly. "Let's go, don't waste time."

The procession continued forward.

Over the next twenty minutes, the third squad encountered three more waves of low-level monsters, ranging in number from a dozen to over twenty. Although they were all one-star, their sheer numbers still posed a challenge. In particular, the third wave included several individuals that were close to two-star, and their movements were noticeably faster.

Overall, things went relatively smoothly.

Until they reached the fourth workshop.

As soon as the door opened, Zhou Lang smelled a strong, nauseating stench of blood. Shining a flashlight inside, everyone stopped in their tracks.

Blood was everywhere in the workshop. Blood on the floor, blood on the walls, blood dripping from the ceiling. The blood didn't seem to have been splattered randomly; it formed some kind of pattern—like writing, yet not any kind of writing that humans could recognize.