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

"This smell..." Han Yingying covered her mouth and nose, her face turning pale.

Zhou Lang also smelled it; it was a mixture of blood, rot, and disinfectant, making him want to vomit.

At the end of the passage was an iron gate, which was unlocked, but a pool of dark red liquid was seeping out from the crack in the gate.

"The second lock," Zhou Lang stopped. "It requires the blood of a ghost."

"Then what do we do?" Zhao Qiang asked. "Where are we going to find ghost blood?"

Zhou Lang glanced at his right hand, which was wrapped in bandages.

"No need to look."

He tore off a bandage, and blood immediately seeped out. The bandaged man inside him let out a muffled groan, but did not stop him.

Zhou Lang dripped blood onto the door, and the iron door clicked open automatically.

Behind the door was a huge space, like a combination of an operating room and a morgue. Dozens of shadowless lamps hung from the ceiling, all aimed at an operating table in the center.

A person is lying on the operating table.

To be precise, he is a person pieced together from different parts.

The left arm was a woman's, the right arm a man's, the stitches on the torso were crisscrossed, the head was fixed to a metal frame, and the facial features came from different people—the left eye was blue, the right eye was brown, and the nose and mouth were completely mismatched in size.

"What is this thing..." Han Yingying's voice trembled.

Zhou Lang didn't answer. He stared at that face, feeling like he'd seen it somewhere before.

Next to the operating table were several glass jars containing various organs—a heart, lungs, liver, and a complete brain.

"It's creating a person," Zhao Qiang swallowed, "using the parts of a dead person."

Zhou Lang approached the operating table, the light of the oil lamp illuminating the patchwork face, and he suddenly understood.

"It's not about creating," he said. "It's about resurrecting."

"What?"

"These organs all come from different people, but it's trying to piece together a specific person." Zhou Lang pointed to the brain. "Look, this brain is complete, which means it has found the most important part."

"What else is it missing?" Han Yingying asked.

Zhou Lang's gaze fell on an iron box under the operating table. The box was open and empty.

"A heart," he said. "A special heart."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the sound of a cane striking the ground came from behind him.

The three of them turned around abruptly. The butler was standing in the doorway, his stitched-up face looking even more eerie in the green light.

"I knew you'd come," it said, its voice not filled with anger, but rather with a hint of relief. "You and she are both too clever."

"Her?" Zhou Lang's heart skipped a beat. "Who are you talking about?"

The butler did not answer. It walked to the operating table and stroked the face of the assembled person with its withered hand.

"Twenty years," it murmured to itself. "I've been searching for twenty years, and I'm finally close to success."

"Who do you want to resurrect?" Zhou Lang asked.

"My daughter." The butler turned around, his empty eye sockets staring directly at Zhou Lang. "She died in that fire, but I can't let her just disappear like that."

"So you turned this place into a game, using players' bodies to piece her together?"

"It's not just about piecing things together." The butler shook his head. "I'm looking for the most suitable parts. Every organ must be perfect for her to truly come back to life."

Zhou Lang looked at the assembled mannequin on the operating table and suddenly remembered something.

"What do you mean by saying I'm the same as her?"

The butler remained silent for a few seconds.

"A month ago, a girl came here too," it said. "She, like you, discovered the secret of the basement, but instead of running away, she made a deal with me."

Zhou Lang's heart began to pound.

"What kind of deal?"

"She helped me find the last heart, and I'll let her go," the butler said. "But she failed because the heart had to be from a living person, and it had to be donated voluntarily."

Where did she go?

"She's still here." The butler pointed to the operating table. "Her eyes are beautiful, so I kept her."

Zhou Lang stared at the blue left eye, his mind blank.

Those are my sister's eyes.

He recognized her; from childhood to adulthood, his sister had watched him grow up with those same eyes.

"You killed her." Zhou Lang's voice was calm, so calm that even he found it terrifying.

"No, she did it willingly," the butler said. "She said she was willing to give anything to keep you alive."

"Bullshit!" Zhao Qiang suddenly roared, "You're lying!"

The butler ignored him and continued to stare at Zhou Lang.

"She left you a letter; it's in that tin box."

Zhou Lang walked to the operating table and took out a folded piece of paper from the metal box.

The paper bore my sister's handwriting, delicate and familiar.

"Xiao Lang, by the time you read this letter, I may no longer be here."

I'm sorry, I failed to protect you.

This game is too dangerous, and I don't want you to get involved, so I made a deal with the dean.

He said he would let you go as long as I helped him find a heart.

I agreed.

But I failed because I couldn't find anyone willing to donate their heart.

In the end, I realized that what he wanted wasn't someone else's heart, but mine.

Because only a heart that truly loves another can bring his daughter back to life.

I have no regrets.

If my death can bring you peace, then it's worth it.

Remember, don't trust anyone, including the dean.

He would lie and say that I was doing this willingly, but in reality, he drugged my tea, making it impossible for me to resist.

Live on, Little Wave.

Live well.

—Your sister

The paper trembled in Zhou Lang's hand. He raised his head and looked at the butler.

You lied to her.

"I'm not lying," the butler said. "Her heart was indeed donated voluntarily, but she didn't know that 'voluntary' can have many meanings."

Zhou Lang laughed, and tears streamed down his face.

"You know what?" he wiped away his tears, "My sister taught me a lesson when I was little."

"What's the reasoning behind that?"

"When you encounter a problem you can't solve, just go for it."

Zhou Lang raised the chainsaw and charged directly at the butler.

Green flames exploded in the basement, the butler's cane blocked the chainsaw, and the two collided with a piercing metallic sound.

"You're insane!" the butler roared. "Kill me, and you'll never get out of here!"

"Then let's die together." Zhou Lang's eyes were bloodshot. "Anyway, my sister is gone."

Amid the roar of the chainsaw, bandages surged from Zhou Lang's right hand, coiling around the butler's body like snakes.

"Bandage! What are you doing!" the butler cried out, struggling.

"I'm helping my master," the bandaged man's voice rang out. "Even though he's annoying, at least he promised to find me clean bandages."

The butler was tightly bound by bandages, and Zhou Lang seized the opportunity to cleave it in two with a saw, breaking its cane in half.