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

"What should we do?" Zhao Qiang asked in a low voice.

The players ahead exchanged bewildered glances. The intelligence report stated there were ten three-star ghosts, but no one expected to encounter them so soon.

"Can we go around it?" someone asked.

"There's only one path down the corridor; there's no way around it."

Qin He squeezed through from behind, saw the stitched-up corpse demon, and whistled, "Big guy."

He pulled a wad of gleaming banknotes from his pocket. No, not banknotes—they shone in his hand, like solid gold.

"How about I give it a try?" Qin He said.

Before anyone could answer, he tossed the gold banknote in his hand at the stitched-up corpse demon. The banknote unfurled in the air, transforming into a golden shield that enveloped the stitched-up corpse demon.

The stitched-up corpse demon moved.

It opened its three mouths and screamed simultaneously. The sound was so shrill it sent chills down your spine. The golden shield cracked—it had broken free of its restraints in an instant.

"Holy crap." Qin He took two steps back. "That's pretty hard."

The stitched-up corpse demon charged towards the crowd. Its four legs moved at an abnormal speed, smashing through the narrow corridor and cracking the walls.

"spread!"

The crowd erupted in uproar.

The corridor is too narrow; there's no room to move around.

Twenty people were crammed into a corridor. In front of them stood a three-meter-tall stitched-together corpse demon, and behind them was the road they had come from—on that road, the one-star monster that had been shattered earlier might have already been resurrected.

The first two players reacted the fastest. One raised his ghostly weapon—a bronze mirror—and shone it at the stitched-up corpse demon. The bronze mirror emitted a beam of white light, striking the corpse demon and forcing it back two steps.

But it's only two steps.

Another player seized the opportunity to swing a curved blade, slashing at the corpse demon's leg. The blade cut into the stitched flesh but got stuck in the bone, unable to be pulled out.

The stitched-up corpse demon swung its four arms simultaneously. One hand grabbed the player and twisted his neck like snapping a tree branch.

He died. He died on the spot.

The crowd erupted in screams.

"Back up! Go back!" someone shouted.

"No! There are resurrected monsters behind us!"

"That's still better than here!"

Chaos. Utter chaos.

Zhou Lang grabbed Zhao Qiang's arm: "Stay close to the wall, don't get pushed over."

Zhao Qiang nodded, shielding Han Yingying, and the three of them slowly retreated along the wall.

The player with the bronze mirror was still holding off the attackers. Waves of white light shot out, but the stitched-up corpse demon was adapting to the attack, its retreat becoming increasingly smaller.

Two more people fell. One was slammed against the wall, and the other was crushed under the feet of the Corpse Demon.

The corridor was filled with the smell of blood and screams.

That's enough.

A voice came from behind the crowd, very calm.

Zhou Lang looked back—Shen Yuan had appeared in the mid-lane team at some point. Shouldn't he be on the left-lane vanguard?

Shen Yuan raised his hunting rifle, but without aiming, the muzzle pointed towards the crowd.

"Get out of the way," he said.

Everyone instinctively pressed themselves against the wall. Zhou Lang included. Those two words carried a certain oppressive force, causing people's bodies to react faster than their brains.

Shen Yuan pulled the trigger.

There was no sound. The moment the bullet left the barrel, Zhou Lang only saw a black light pierce through the corridor, through the gaps between everyone—and strike the stitched corpse demon squarely in the center of its chest.

The three heads of the stitched-together corpse demon opened their eyes wide simultaneously. It looked down at the hole in its chest, which was rapidly widening, as if something was devouring it from the inside.

three seconds.

The Stitched Corpse Demon collapsed. Its body disintegrated, falling apart piece by piece, turning into black ash and dissipating.

The corridor became quiet.

Everyone looked at Shen Yuan.

He holstered his hunting rifle, walked expressionlessly through the crowd, and headed deeper into the corridor. As he passed Zhou Lang, Zhou Lang noticed his eyes—the pupils were gray, like the eyes of a dead man.

"Keep up," Shen Yuan said. His voice was hoarse, as if he were talking to himself, not to anyone else.

Qin He was the first to follow. He excitedly trotted to Shen Yuan's side: "Big brother, what kind of ghost weapon is that? It's too powerful! One shot and it kills a three-star ghost!"

Shen Yuan ignored him.

Qin He wasn't embarrassed and continued muttering to himself as he followed behind.

Zhou Lang composed himself and followed with Zhao Qiang and Han Yingying. As they passed the corpses of the dead players, Han Yingying turned her head away.

"Three people have died in just ten minutes since we came in." Zhao Qiang's voice was a little hoarse.

Zhou Lang didn't answer. The bandaged man was right; the survival rate for this operation was less than 10%. But they were already in; there was no turning back.

At the end of the corridor was an iron door. Shen Yuan kicked it open, revealing a spacious area behind it—like a factory workshop.

Rows of rust-making machines stood side by side, and the ceiling lights flickered on and off. Scattered on the floor were broken bones and tattered rags.

"Wait a minute." Zhou Zhu everyone.

He took an oil lamp from his pocket and lit it. The blue flame flickered twice, then burst into flames, almost leaping out of the lampshade.

"There are a lot of ghosts and monsters," Zhou Lang said. "Oil lamps will burn fiercely when they encounter strong yin energy."

Shen Yuan glanced at him, then continued walking forward.

"Wait..." someone tried to stop him.

Shen Yuan had already entered the workshop.

Nothing happened.

One second, two seconds, three seconds.

It was eerily quiet.

Then all the lights in the workshop went out.

As darkness fell, countless lights illuminated the scene—not lamps, but eyes. In the gaps between machines, on the pipes in the ceiling, in the cracks in the floor. A dense mass of eyes, all fixed on the crowd at the doorway.

"Damn it!" Zhao Qiang cursed.

Those eyes began to move. They approached them from all directions.

"Close the door! Close the door!" someone shouted from behind.

"The door can't be closed! Closing it will lead to a dead end!"

Chaos reigned once again.

Shen Yuan stood in the center of the workshop, with at least dozens of eyes closing in on him. He showed no sign of panic, simply raising his shotgun and firing a shot at the ceiling.

The black light spread out, shattering the pipes in the ceiling and sending metal fragments crashing down. The remaining fluorescent powder from the light tubes dispersed, illuminating a corner of the workshop.

Those things—they weren't crawling corpses. They were another kind of monster. Monkey-like in shape, with long, thin limbs and deep purple skin. There were so many of them, hanging from every surface they could cling to.

But strangely, in the area illuminated by the fluorescent powder, the ghosts seemed to retreat.

"They're afraid of light," Zhou Lang realized.

He raised the oil lamp and turned the flame to its maximum. The blue light spread out, and the purple monsters within a three-meter radius let out piercing screams and retreated.

"Everyone! Those with light sources, bring them out!" Zhou Lang shouted.

Qin He reacted the fastest. He rubbed his fingers together, and a handful of gold banknotes appeared in his hand. He scattered the banknotes into the air, and they burst into flames, transforming into a small golden sphere that hovered in mid-air.

The entire workshop was illuminated.