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

When the two came out of the convenience store, the night breeze was a bit chilly. Zhou Lang walked Han Yingying to the fork in the road. She took a few steps toward her home, then stopped.

"Zhou Lang".

"Um?"

"Don't you have this feeling?" Han Yingying didn't turn around. "It's like... I've forgotten something. Something very important. But I just can't remember it."

Zhou Lang watched her retreating figure.

"Don't force yourself to remember if you can't," he said. "Maybe you'll remember once you're in the dungeon."

"……Too."

Han Yingying left. Zhou Lang stood there, watching her disappear around the street corner.

The bandaged man's voice rang out in the night.

"There's something wrong with her."

"What's the problem?"

"Amnesia. Normal people wouldn't have that kind of confusion," the bandaged man said. "Either she experienced something that altered her memories, or she wasn't an ordinary player to begin with."

Zhou Lang did not answer.

He recalled Han Yingying's performance in the dungeon—her combat acumen was extremely high, her reaction speed was faster than most veteran players, and she almost never made a mistake in judging the habits of ghosts.

This level of skill cannot be explained by talent alone.

"Let's take it one step at a time," Zhou Lang said.

He went home to sleep.

The next morning, before the alarm clock rang, he was awakened by a loud bang.

The whole building was shaking.

Zhou Lang sprang out of bed and rushed to the window. The sky outside was a greyish-red, not the color of sunrise, but more like something burning. People were running and shouting in the street.

The system panel popped up automatically.

[Urgent Notice]

A bizarre mass attack has occurred. Current danger level in the area: Extremely high.

The eighth instance will be forcibly opened in 30 minutes.

Please be prepared.

-

Zhou Lang cursed and started getting dressed and taking out his equipment.

My phone vibrated incessantly. A message from Zhao Qiang: "Holy crap, did you see that?? It's full of ghosts outside!!"

Han Yingying's message consisted of only two words: "Be careful."

Zhou Lang stuffed all his gear into his backpack, opened the door, and rushed out. Neighbors were screaming and children were crying in the hallway. He didn't have time for that—he had to meet up with Zhao Qiang and Han Yingying in thirty minutes.

As I ran down the stairs, I saw something wriggling around the corner on the third floor.

Zhou Lang glanced at it. A wisp of black mist clung to the ceiling, within which a human face could be vaguely seen. It stared at Zhou Lang, its mouth opening and closing silently.

Zhou Lang did not stop.

As he ran beneath the cloud of mist, it suddenly rushed towards him.

The chainsaw started up in a fraction of a second, the chain spinning at high speed, tearing through the black mist. A sharp screech followed, and the mist dissipated.

Zhou Lang kept running.

Stepping outside the building, the situation on the street was worse than he had imagined. Large wisps of gray-black fog swirled in the sky, and numerous cracks appeared in the ground, from which semi-transparent hands emerged. A middle-aged man, his ankle gripped by one of these hands, was lying on the ground, struggling desperately.

Zhou Lang hesitated for half a second, then cleaved the hand with his saw. The hand retracted, and the man scrambled to his feet and stumbled away without even saying thank you.

"Don't waste your time," the bandaged man said. "You only have twenty-eight minutes left."

Zhou Lang took off running.

The meeting point was in the old park three kilometers away. Zhou Lang encountered four or five more low-level ghosts along the way, but he dealt with them all without much trouble. However, he noticed that the number of these ghosts far exceeded the normal level.

In the past, the occasional appearance of one or two one-star ghosts in the city was considered a serious eerie event. Now, they're everywhere.

Could what Han Yingying mentioned last night be a harbinger of this impending doom?

Fifteen minutes later, Zhou Lang arrived at the old park. Zhao Qiang and Han Ying were already there.

Zhao Qiang held his ghostly hammer, its head splattered with a grayish-black liquid. Han Yingying stood behind him, holding a silver short sword—her ghostly weapon.

"Is everything alright?" Zhou Lang asked.

"It's nothing," Zhao Qiang said. "I took down three on the way. What the hell is going on? It's even weirder than that Yu something dungeon from last time."

Han Yingying didn't say anything, but just glanced at Zhou Lang.

Zhou understood what she meant—this was what she meant by "something wasn't right" last night.

The system panel has started a countdown.

ten minutes.

Nine minutes.

Zhou Lang checked the equipment. The chainsaw was full of oil, the cane was intact, and the oil lamp still had more than half a pot of oil left. There were only two bottles of medicine left; he had forgotten to restock yesterday.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Prepare my ass," Zhao Qiang said. "There's not even any information about the copy."

As soon as he finished speaking, a new message popped up on the system panel.

-

[Eighth Dungeon]

Dungeon Rating: S

Copy Name: Hospital Where People Fell From Building

Team size: 5 people

Team members: Zhou Lang, Han Yingying, Zhao Qiang, Lin Ke, Lu Yuan

-

Zhou Lang frowned.

Five people. He only recognized three of them—himself, Zhao Qiang, and Han Yingying.

Who is Lin Ke? And who is Lu Yuan?

Before he could even think, a white light shone through.

The countdown has reached zero.

After the white light dissipated, Zhou Lang found himself standing in the lobby of a building.

The floor was covered with white ceramic tiles, most of which were cracked, with black moss growing in the cracks. Directly in front was a reception desk, its surface covered with a thick layer of dust. A sign hung on the wall with four characters written on it.

The Third People's Hospital of Linyang City.

Zhou Lang glanced around. Zhao Qiang was on his left, and Han Yingying was on his right. The three of them stood firmly.

There were two other people in the hall.

One of them was a woman in her early twenties, with her hair tied in a high ponytail, wearing a black tracksuit, and two daggers at her waist. Her expression was cold as she stood about five or six meters away from them, her eyes scanning the three men.

The other was a man, around thirty years old, with a buzz cut, lean build, and wearing an old military overcoat. He was unarmed, with his hands in his pockets, and stood leaning against the wall.

Zhou Lang glanced at the team information on the system panel.

Lin Ke—that's the girl with the ponytail. Lu Yuan—that's the man with the buzz cut.

"Are you Zhao Qiang and Zhou Lang?" the man with the buzz cut asked, his voice flat.

"Yes," Zhao Qiang replied. "Are you Lu Yuan?"

"Hmm." Lu Yuan straightened up from the wall and took a few steps toward them. "Lu Yuan from the Second Guild. The organization has assigned me to assist you in completing this dungeon."

The Second Trade Union.

Zhou Lang's eyebrows twitched.

He remembered the Second Guild. It was frequently mentioned on the forum—the largest player guild in the neighboring province, with over three hundred members and abundant resources, but its reputation was polarized. Some said they were efficient and professional, while others said they were unscrupulous.

"And you?" Zhao Qiang turned to the girl with the ponytail. "Lin Ke?"

Lin Ke didn't answer. She stared at the sledgehammer in Zhao Qiang's hand for two seconds, then looked away.

"She's also from the Second Union," Lu Yuan answered for her. "She's not very talkative, don't mind her."

Han Yingying leaned close to Zhou Lang's ear, her voice so low that only the two of them could hear: "Don't you find it strange that the Second Guild sent two people in at once?"