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

The purple ghosts all retreated into the shadows, too afraid to come out.

"Let's go," Shen Yuan said.

The group moved through the workshop under the protection of the light source. When they reached the other end, Zhou Lang counted—there were at least a hundred purple ghosts. Without the light source, this would have been a slaughterhouse.

"I don't have any information on such ghosts," Zhou Lang frowned.

Qin He ran up to him: "You bought intelligence too? I didn't get any. I spent 10,000 points to buy detailed intelligence, what a rip-off."

"The intelligence was wrong." Zhao Qiang's face was grim. "This means there might be more unknown things inside."

The walkie-talkie crackled to life. It was Li Feng's voice, but the signal was weak and intermittent: "Attention all teams... Left flank vanguard... Encounter..."

The signal was interrupted.

Shen Yuan didn't stop. He pushed open the door at the other end of the workshop, behind which was a staircase leading downwards.

"The underground level," Zhou Lang said. "The intelligence says the core is on the third underground level."

"Then we made the right choice," Qin He said. He turned to look at the remaining people behind him—of the twenty who had entered the central route, three were dead, leaving seventeen. But several of them looked terrible, clearly unwilling to go any further.

"I'm not going." Sure enough, a man in camouflage said, "It's too dangerous. The intelligence is completely inaccurate; who knows what's down there?"

"Let's go, let's go." Qin He waved his hand, "Fewer people means more to share."

The man glared at him, then turned and walked back with his two companions.

"Going back is a dead end for them too," Zhao Qiang said in a low voice. "Those purple ghosts won't hide forever; once their light source runs out, they're done for."

Zhou Lang didn't say anything. Everyone has their own choices, and he couldn't interfere.

The remaining fourteen people followed Shen Yuan down the stairs.

The staircase was very long. With each floor, the temperature dropped. By the time we reached the basement, the walls were covered in frost.

The basement level was a huge warehouse. The shelves were filled with rusty iron drums. There was a pungent chemical smell in the air.

"Wait a moment."

This time, it was someone who hadn't spoken until now who spoke. Zhou Lang looked over—it was a girl, around twenty years old, with an average appearance, wearing a gray hoodie, and with a very low profile.

"There's a trap ahead," she said, pointing to the ground.

Zhou Lang looked in the direction she pointed—there was an extremely thin line on the ground, almost invisible. If she hadn't pointed it out, the first person to step on it would definitely have been injured.

Shen Yuan stopped and looked down at the wire.

"How did you find out?" he asked.

This was the first complete question Shen Yuan uttered after entering the instance.

"I...I have good eyesight," the girl said softly.

Shen Yuan didn't ask any further questions and continued walking around the line. The others also carefully went around it.

Zhou Lang glanced at the girl again. She wore a gray hoodie, kept her head down, and walked with her shoulders hunched, as if trying to shrink herself to the smallest possible size. People like her usually didn't survive more than three levels in a dungeon, but she claimed to have reached rank B—either she was capable or she had powerful connections.

We didn't encounter any ghosts or monsters on the first basement level. The journey was unusually quiet.

At the end of the warehouse, there was another staircase leading downwards. This time, the staircase was narrower, allowing only one person to pass at a time.

Shen Yuan walked at the front, with Qin He close behind. Zhou Lang was fifth in line, with Zhao Qiang and Han Yingying behind him. The girl in gray walked at the very back of the group.

When you go down to the second basement level, the space suddenly becomes larger.

It wasn't a warehouse anymore. It was a space resembling a church—the dome was ridiculously high, with stone pillars lining both sides. The floor was black stone slabs, covered with incomprehensible runes. Rusty iron chains hung between the pillars, with something dangling from the ends of the chains.

Zhou Lang raised the oil lamp and illuminated the nearest iron chain.

What's hanging there is a person.

To be precise, it was a mummified human corpse. The skin was tightly attached to the bones, the eye sockets were deep-set, and the mouth was wide open. The mummified corpse was wearing different clothes—some were modern T-shirts and jeans, while others looked like old-fashioned uniforms.

"The previous players." Zhao Qiang recognized the badge on one of the mummified corpses. "People from the Bureau of Demon Suppression."

Han Yingying covered her mouth.

There weren't just ten or twenty mummified corpses hanging from the iron chains; there were hundreds. They were densely arranged among the stone pillars, like some kind of sacrificial offering.

"How long has this copy existed?" someone asked in a trembling voice.

No one answered.

Shen Yuan glanced at the dried corpses and continued walking forward. His pace remained unchanged, as if he were only looking at the roadside trees.

"Wait," Zhou Lang suddenly spoke up, "Stop."

Everyone stopped.

"listen."

Quiet. There wasn't a sound at all.

No—there's a sound. Very faint, like breathing. It's not coming from anyone in the group. It's coming from above.

Zhou Lang slowly raised his head.

On the dome, a stitched-up corpse demon lay sprawled.

No, there was more than one.

Two. Three. Five.

Five three-star stitched corpse demons clung to the dome like geckos, their thirty-odd eyes all fixed on the crowd below.

"Don't move." Shen Yuan's voice came from ahead. "They're waiting."

"Waiting for what?" Qin He asked.

"Wait for the prey to enter the encirclement."

Before the words were even finished, the iron gates at the entrance and exit of the second basement level simultaneously slammed shut. The loud crash echoed through the empty hall.

Our escape route is cut off.

Five stitched-up corpse demons fell from the dome, the impact causing everyone to stagger. They formed a semicircle, surrounding the fourteen people in the middle.

"Fuck him," Zhao Qiang cursed, clenching his fists.

Five three-star ghosts, fourteen people.

Shen Yuan previously killed one with a single shot, but that was in a narrow corridor, a one-on-one situation. Now that five have appeared simultaneously, even if Shen Yuan's gun is incredibly powerful, it's impossible for him to kill all five with one shot.

Zhou Lang quickly assessed the situation. Five stitched-up corpse demons blocked the front, back, left, and right sides, leaving only the top of his head open—but the dome was at least twenty meters high, making it impossible to jump up.

"Divide into groups," Shen Yuan said. "Three or four people each to deal with one, just hold them off. I'll take them down one by one."

A simple and brutal tactic. But there was no better option on the field.

"I'm in a group with Zhao Qiang and Han Yingying," Zhou Lang said immediately.

"I'll go with you," the girl in gray said, leaning closer.

Zhou Lang hesitated for a moment, then nodded. Four people against one is enough.

Qin He quickly assembled a group as well. The remaining people were assigned to their own groups.

The stitched-up corpse demon gave them no more time to prepare. The closest one attacked first, swinging its four arms wide and smashing them down on the crowd.

"Disperse!"

Zhou Lang rolled to the left and started the chainsaw. Zhao Qiang pulled Han Yingying to the right to dodge. The girl in gray had disappeared behind the stone pillar at some point.

The Stitching Corpse Demon's fist slammed into the ground, shattering the black stone slab and sending cracks spreading in all directions.

Zhou Lang circled around to its side and swung the chainsaw at its nearest leg. Sparks flew as the saw blade cut in—this thing's bones were harder than the one in the corridor. He used all his strength and only managed to cut off a third of it.