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

But by the time she arrived, the figure had already vanished.

Only the wind blows, stirring up the fallen leaves on the ground.

"Did I see wrong?"

Han Yingying stood still when she suddenly heard footsteps behind her.

She turned around and saw her teammate B standing not far away. #Chapter 1

At the end of the basement was a bronze door.

The door was carved with intricate patterns, which gleamed eerily under the green light of the oil lamp. Zhou Lang approached and discovered three grooves on the door, each with a different shape.

"We need a key," Zhao Qiang said.

Zhou Lang shook his head. "It's not a key."

He took three items out of his inventory—bandages, scissors, and a chainsaw.

"The shapes of these things..." Han Yingying realized, "...correspond to the grooves?"

Zhou Lang didn't answer, but directly pressed the three items into the grooves. Click, click, click—three crisp sounds followed, and the bronze door slowly opened.

Behind the door was a huge room, the walls covered with portraits. Each portrait depicted a person, male or female, young or old. Below each portrait was a name and the date.

"These are..." Zhao Qiang approached a painting.

"The people who died here," Zhou Lang said.

Han Yingying gasped. There were over a hundred portraits, meaning that at least a hundred people had died in this manor.

In the center of the room stood a table, on which lay a thick ledger. Zhou Lang opened the ledger, which was filled with detailed records of everyone's information—name, age, date of death, and cause of death.

"On March 15, 1923, Zhang San, male, 28 years old, died from violating rules by leaving his room at night."

"On July 8, 1925, Li Si, female, 32 years old, died from: a work-related mistake, breaking her master's teacup."

"On November 2, 1930, Wang Wu, male, 19 years old, died from attempting to escape."

Every record is shocking.

"How long has this manor existed?" Han Yingying's voice trembled.

Zhou Lang continued turning the page, then suddenly stopped.

The last page of the ledger recorded four names—Xiong Batian, Zhao Qiang, Han Yingying, and Langligelang.

The date is today.

The cause of death field is still blank.

"Our names..." Zhao Qiang's face turned pale.

Zhou Lang closed the ledger. "The cause of death hasn't been written yet, which means we still have a chance."

He looked around, his gaze landing on a small door in the corner of the room. The door was very low, only a little over a meter tall, as if it were specifically for a child.

Zhou Lang walked over and pushed open the door.

Behind the door was a narrow passage, only wide enough for one person to crawl through. The passage was pitch black, the light from the oil lamp not reaching the bottom.

"Shall we go in?" Zhao Qiang asked.

Zhou Lang nodded. "The answer is inside."

He went into the tunnel first, followed by Zhao Qiang and Han Yingying. The tunnel was long, and it took Zhou Lang more than ten minutes to see light ahead.

He crawled out of the passage and found himself in an unfamiliar room.

The room was small, only a few square meters, and all four walls were mirrors. Countless Zhou Langs were reflected in the mirrors, each one staring at him.

"Where is this place?" Han Yingying also climbed out.

Zhou Lang didn't speak; he noticed something different about one of the mirrors. In that mirror, his eyes were red.

He walked closer to the mirror and reached out to touch it.

Ripples spread across the mirror's surface, like the surface of water. Zhou Lang's hand passed through the mirror, feeling a chilling aura.

"This is……"

Before he could finish speaking, a hand suddenly reached out from the mirror, grabbed Zhou Lang's wrist, and pulled him in forcefully.

Zhou Lang reacted quickly, grabbing the frame of his glasses with his other hand to steady himself. But the hand was very strong, pulling him forward.

"Zhou Lang!" Han Yingying rushed up and hugged his waist.

Zhao Qiang grabbed Zhou Lang's arm, "Don't let go!"

With their combined efforts, the three of them finally managed to pull Zhou Lang back. The hand waved a few times in the mirror, unwilling to give up, before finally retracting.

Zhou Lang gasped for breath, "There's something behind the mirror."

"Should we still go in?" Zhao Qiang asked.

Looking at his red-eyed reflection in the mirror, Zhou Lang thought, "I have to go in."

He took the chainsaw out of his inventory and aimed it at the mirror.

"What are you going to do?" Han Yingying asked.

"Since it won't let me in properly, I'll just forge my own way."

Zhou Lang started the chainsaw, its ear-piercing sound echoing in the small room. He pressed the chainsaw against the mirror, sparks flying everywhere.

The mirror began to crack, more and more cracked, until it finally shattered with a crash.

The fragments were scattered all over the floor, revealing the space behind the mirror. It was a larger room, with a huge oil painting hanging on the wall.

The painting depicts a man in a magnificent suit sitting in a chair, holding a glass of red wine. His face is blurred, his features indistinct, but one can sense that he is smiling.

"Is this the owner of the manor?" Zhao Qiang asked.

Zhou Lang approached the oil painting and noticed a line of small characters engraved below the frame: "Eternal Feast, Eternal Servant."

"What do you mean?"

Zhou Lang stared at the oil painting. "This manor isn't for living in; it's for trapping people. Everyone who comes in will become a servant, forever serving their master."

"Then we..." Han Yingying's face turned pale.

"So we need to find the master and kill him," Zhou Lang said calmly, as if he were commenting on the nice weather.

Zhao Qiang swallowed hard. "Are you sure you can kill him?"

"You'll know once you try it."

Zhou Lang reached out and touched the oil painting, and the image suddenly distorted, sucking the three of them inside.

Everything went black, and when they opened their eyes again, they were standing in a huge banquet hall.

The banquet hall was resplendent with gold and crystal chandeliers hanging down, and long tables were laden with food. But all the food was rotten and emitted a foul stench.

At the end of the long table sat a man, the very man from the oil painting. He was dressed in a magnificent suit, holding a wine glass, his face still blurred.

"Welcome," the man said, his voice hollow. "New servants."

Zhou Lang didn't waste any words and directly took out a chainsaw. "You're the master?"

"Yes." The man put down his glass. "You want to rebel?"

"It's not just a thought, it's a certainty."

Zhou Lang started the chainsaw and charged at the man.

The man didn't move; he simply raised his hand and waved it gently.

Zhou Lang's body suddenly froze, as if bound by an invisible force. He struggled desperately, but couldn't move an inch.

"In my domain, you're all just toys." The man stood up and walked towards Zhou Lang. "However, you're much more interesting than the others."

He reached out, wanting to touch Zhou Lang's face.

Just then, Zhou Lang's body suddenly burst forth with green light. That was the power of the Bandaged Demon.

The man's hand was flung away, and he took a few steps back. "You... merged with my servant?"

Zhou Lang regained his mobility and sneered, "Not only did it fuse with them, it ate them too."

He charged at the man again, this time faster. The chainsaw whistled through the air.

The man raised his hand to block, but the chainsaw struck his arm instead of cutting through it, sending sparks flying.

"Your body..." Zhou Lang frowned.

"I am no longer human," the man said. "I am part of this manor, and as long as the manor exists, I will not die."

Zhou Lang stopped attacking. "Then destroy the manor."