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

It wasn't an iron gate, but a wooden one, an old-fashioned one, with intricate carvings. In any other place, it would be considered an antique, but placed at the far end of the basement, it was a different story. Zhou Lang held up a lamp closer, and the green light revealed the details of the carvings—human faces, large and small, stacked together, some crying, some laughing, crowded together. At first glance, it looked like decoration, but after a couple more seconds, something seemed off.

Zhao Qiang leaned over for a glance, then stepped back and said, "Disgusting."

Han Yingying didn't move closer; instead, she took half a step to the side and asked, "In?"

Zhou Lang pushed the door open directly.

Inside was a large stone chamber with stone walls on all four sides and a high ceiling. In the very center stood an altar—he would call it that for now, because it contained candles, bones, and a black porcelain bowl filled with black liquid that smelled rather unpleasant when you got close.

There was something standing next to the altar.

He was a little over 1.6 meters tall, wearing an old-fashioned butler's uniform. His face was white—not pale, but literally white. His facial features were indistinct, with only two black holes corresponding to his eyes, staring directly at the three of them.

"Coming." It spoke, its voice exactly the same as the butler upstairs, even the rhythm of its pronunciation matched.

Zhou Lang took two steps forward, holding the oil lamp. The green light shone on it, and the white area began to have layers—it wasn't a single face, but an effect of countless superimposed faces. It was probably like the ghosts in the corridor were compressed into a shape and placed here.

He sized him up for a moment, then asked, "Are you the originator of this manor?"

"The source." It repeated the word, as if chewing on some unfamiliar definition, "Sort of."

Zhao Qiang nudged Zhou Lang's arm and whispered, "Is this what you call negotiation?"

"Calculate."

"Will it work?"

"Say it first, then we'll see."

The thing never looked at Zhao Qiang; its gaze remained fixed on Zhou Lang for several seconds before asking, "Where did you get your oil lamp?"

"Bought."

The stone chamber was silent for about four seconds.

Zhao Qiang, holding on tightly behind Zhou Lang, shifted his shoulders slightly, straining to breathe. Han Yingying moved half a step to the side, probably to confirm that there was still a way out.

The thing stared at Zhou Lang. The two black holes, their forms indistinct, paused for a long time before finally saying, "This lamp can see them. Have you counted them?"

Zhou Lang gave a number, accurate to the single digit.

The silence lasted much longer than expected. Finally, it said, "Seven fewer."

"It was too crowded around the corner of the corridor, so I didn't go around there and didn't count that batch."

"...You avoided the seven ghosts because it was too crowded."

"Yes," Zhou Lang said. "Are you the first person to see me like that?"

"You're the first person to count them voluntarily," the thing replied.

Zhao Qiang whispered from behind, "Is this considered an achievement?"

This time, the thing didn't respond to that question. Instead, it looked at Han Yingying and Zhao Qiang and said, "You brought them with you."

"By the way," Zhou Lang said, "what do you want to say? Finish what you have to say."

"You are the first person to light the oil lamp and go downstairs," it said. "The people before you were either scared away by the ghosts upstairs or turned back after sensing the air pressure at the basement door. Only you made it all the way down."

Han Yingying whispered, "Did the three of us make it down?"

"Yes." The thing looked at her. "All three of you have come down."

This was supposed to be a statement, but when he said it, Zhao Qiang paused for a moment. He turned his head and mouthed "Oh" to Han Yingying, who responded with a blank expression.

Zhou Lang ignored the exchange of glances between the two and asked, "Did you put the oil lamp there?"

"I have no ability to place anything," the thing said. "I'm trapped here, unable to get out, and unable to interfere with the outside world."

"There's only one item in this manor, its function is to detect ghosts, and its price is just within the reach of ordinary players. It's placed in the easiest-to-find spot. Who arranged this?"

The thing did not answer immediately.

Zhou Lang didn't press the matter; he simply waited. The candle in the stone chamber trembled slightly. There was no wind, yet it was still shaking. The black liquid in the bowl remained motionless, much more stable than the candle.

Finally, the thing spoke, saying, "This manor was built before I appeared. The rules were set by someone else, and the oil lamps were placed by someone else. I only know the function of the props, but I don't know who placed them."

Zhou Lang thought for a moment and said, "Then can you tell me the origin of this place?"

"Okay," it replied, "but first tell me what you plan to do."

"Break the altar," Zhou Lang said. "Didn't you tell me that?"

The thing remained silent for a long time before finally saying, "...I haven't said anything yet."

"But this is the solution." Zhou Lang looked at the altar. "There's a crack in the middle, it's man-made, which means someone tried to destroy it before but failed, leaving a gap. Now I'm here to fill in this last step."

"..."

Zhao Qiang, standing behind, said very quietly, "He really doesn't follow the rules."

Han Yingying didn't respond. She looked at Zhou Lang, thought for a moment, and then remained silent.

Then that thing spoke.

The manor was built a hundred years ago. The owner made his fortune by trafficking in human lives. After a long time, the vengeful spirits of those he killed began to haunt him. Unable to bear it any longer, he hired a sorcerer to deal with it. The sorcerer's solution was to use more souls to suppress the original ghost and dilute its resentment. The owner thought it made sense and did as instructed.

As a result, the number of ghosts increased, and the resentment did not diminish but only intensified. Eventually, even the master himself became part of it, mingling with everything else that remained. Before fleeing, the sorcerer left behind a basement, claiming it contained a "solution," but he didn't explain what the solution was, and then he was gone.

"And so a hundred years passed, and wave after wave of people came, but no one ever found this place," the thing said finally.

"Are you that businessman?" Han Yingying asked.

"It's everyone," it said. "Everything left here is inside me."

This was a bit convoluted. Zhao Qiang took a few seconds to process it, then his expression changed. He said, "So you are... a combination of more than a hundred ghosts?"

"More."

Zhao Qiang took a half step back, stepping on Han Yingying's foot. Han Yingying pushed him back with her elbow without making a sound.

Zhou Lang was looking at the altar, examining it from the side. The crack in the middle was thin and long, positioned low, at a height that a person could reach while standing. This indicated that the person who wanted to destroy it did not use any tools, but simply acted directly, but lacked the strength to leave this crack.

"Once you break, you'll fall apart too," he said.

"Yes."

"Besides dispersing, what other effects does it have?"

The thing paused for a moment, then said, "The moment it breaks, the thing suppressed within the altar will spread outwards with considerable force, but it won't kill you; it will be very painful. And one more thing—"

"explain."

"A part of me will remain in another form, attached to something you took away. You cannot choose it, nor can you refuse it. What it is, I do not know; it depends on where it lands at the moment it disperses."