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

He took a chainsaw out of his backpack.

The sound of the chainsaw starting up echoed underground, sharp and piercing. Zhou Lang rushed towards the nearest stitched-up zombie, and the chainsaw cut straight into its waist.

He didn't intend to kill it—since he couldn't kill it, he would cut it into pieces so that it couldn't revive for a while.

The chainsaw cleaved the stitched corpse in two from the waist upwards. Internal organs and blood splattered everywhere. The two halves fell to either side, the stitches snapped, and parts scattered.

The resurrection process was noticeably slower this time.

"That's the right approach," the bandaged man said. "The more thorough the destruction, the slower the resurrection."

Zhou Lang didn't stop. He chopped up the second and third stitched corpse demons in succession, turning them into a pile of minced meat.

The rest of Group C stared in disbelief at what they saw.

Chen Gang noticed the way Zhou Lang used the chainsaw—not with brute force, but by purposefully cutting the location of the sutures. This young man had excellent observation skills and reaction speed.

And his stamina... is unlike that of an ordinary player.

"Let's go." Zhou Lang put away the chainsaw. "Before they're all put back together."

The group passed through the passage and arrived at the entrance to the second basement level.

A rusty iron gate blocked the way. A line of text was engraved on the gate.

"Offering sacrifices is required for passage."

"Offerings?" Han Yingying asked. "What offerings?"

Zhou Lang looked around and noticed a groove next to the door, shaped like a palm.

"Who wants to try?" Chen Gang asked.

Nobody moved.

Zhou Lang thought for a moment and then placed his hand on the groove.

A sharp pain shot through his palm. A needle emerged from the groove, pierced his finger, and sucked a drop of blood.

The iron gate opened.

"That's it?" Zhao Qiang was taken aback. "Just one drop of blood?"

"Sacrifice, blood is the sacrifice." Zhou Lang waved his hand. "Let's go."

The second basement level is much larger than the first. It's no longer a narrow corridor, but a spacious factory. The factory is filled with rusty machinery, and tall iron frames divide the space into small areas.

"Be careful, visibility is limited," Chen Gang warned. "Spread out, two people per group."

Zhou Lang and Han Yingying were in one group. Zhao Qiang was in another group with a tall, thin man wearing glasses.

"How much longer can your chainsaw last?" Han Yingying asked softly.

"There's still half a tank of gas left." Zhou Lang glanced at the fuel gauge.

"Save your breath, there's still the Ghost King down there."

"I know."

The two walked carefully between the iron frames. Zhou Lang's oil lamp illuminated the path ahead, and they proceeded cautiously with each step.

Suddenly, a "crack" sound came from above.

Zhou Lang looked up abruptly and saw a stitched-up corpse demon perched on top of the iron frame, staring at him with its patched-up face.

It opened its mouth, revealing a mouth full of irregularly arranged teeth.

Without saying a word, Zhou Lang grabbed Han Yingying and ran.

"There are three behind!" Han Yingying turned around and glanced back.

The three stitched corpse demons jumped down from the iron frame at the same time, making a dull thud as they landed, and chased after them.

Shouts from other groups came through the walkie-talkie.

"We have them here too!"

"At least two!"

"Damn it, we're surrounded!"

Zhou Lang cursed inwardly. The intelligence said there were a total of ten stitched corpse demons. He had encountered three on the first basement level, and now at least seven more had appeared. In other words, all the stitched corpse demons were gathered on this level.

"Chen Gang, where is the entrance to the third basement level?" Zhou Lang shouted into the walkie-talkie.

"The deepest part of the factory!" Chen Gang's voice trailed off. "I saw it... but something was blocking it—"

Communication is interrupted.

Zhou Lang didn't hesitate. He pulled Han Yingying and ran deeper into the factory, taking out defensive talismans from his backpack as he ran.

"Use this." He handed the talisman to Han Yingying. "It can block one attack."

Han Yingying took the talisman and affixed it to her body. A golden light flashed, forming a thin shield.

The stitched-up corpse demons behind him were getting closer and closer. Zhou Lang turned around, lit a talisman, and threw it at them.

The talisman exploded in the air, and the golden flames temporarily repelled the three ghosts.

"Hurry up!"

The two continued running. Zhou Lang saw a large door at the end of the factory building—that should be the entrance to the third basement level.

A person was standing in front of the door.

No, it's not a person.

It is the Ghost King.

Its appearance was completely different from the Stitched Corpse Demon. It looked like a man in a suit, with regular features, even handsome. But its eyes were completely black, without whites or pupils, just pure black.

Zhou Lang stopped in his tracks.

The Ghost King looked at him, a slight smile curving his lips.

"You've come," it said.

The Ghost King can speak.

This wasn't in the intelligence report.

Zhou Lang stood frozen in place, his mind racing. The intelligence report stated that the Ghost King's weakness was unknown, but it didn't mention that it could speak human language. A talking ghost usually meant higher intelligence and greater difficulty in dealing with it.

"You're the most interesting one among this group," said the Ghost King. Its voice was calm, like a normal person having a conversation.

Han Yingying gripped the weapon tightly, her whole body tense.

"Do you know me?" Zhou Lang asked.

"I don't recognize it. But I can smell it." The Ghost King tilted his head. "There's something on you that smells very good."

The bandaged man. Zhou Lang immediately realized. The Ghost King must have been referring to the bandaged man's aura.

"So?" Zhou Lang didn't back down. "Do you want to fight or talk?"

The Ghost King chuckled: "What's the rush? Those things behind you can't catch up."

Zhou Lang glanced back. Sure enough, the three stitched-up corpse demons stopped a dozen meters away, lying motionless on the ground, as if suppressed by something.

The aura of the Ghost King.

"Don't worry about the others either," the Ghost King said. "I stopped them. You people are too weak; it's no fun killing you."

Zhou Lang gleaned some information—the Ghost King could control the Stitching Corpse Demon. This meant that as long as the Ghost King was dealt with, the other minions would naturally be no threat.

But how do you deal with a four-star monster?

Zhou Lang mentally calculated his resources: a chainsaw, an oil lamp, a cane, plus the remaining talismans and healing potions. More than enough to deal with three-star ghosts, but four-star... far from sufficient.

"What do you want?" Zhou Lang decided to test the waters first. A ghost that is willing to talk usually has something that can be used.

"Give me that thing on your body," the Ghost King pointed to Zhou Lang's chest, "and I'll let you go."

The bandaged man. That's what it wants: the bandaged man.

"Don't agree." The bandaged man's voice rang out, tinged with unusual tension. "It wants to devour me to evolve."

Zhou Lang remained silent. He was thinking—the Ghost King's directness in proposing conditions indicated that it was wary. It had chosen to negotiate instead of taking direct action.

What is it afraid of?

"What if I don't give it to you?" Zhou Lang asked.

The Ghost King's smile vanished. It looked into Zhou Lang's eyes, and Zhou Lang's image was reflected in its completely black eyeballs.

"Then I'll take it myself."

It moved.

The speed was outrageous. Zhou Lang only saw a blur before the Ghost King appeared in front of him. A hand grabbed his neck and lifted him up.