Upon hearing this, Bai Lian nodded thoughtfully.
He turned to Jian Ran and asked:
“If we have a pen that turns into a snake and a book that can transform into any object, what tier would those artifacts be?”
Jian Ran paused, then answered:
“Such artifacts are exceedingly rare. From your description, they’d likely be above A-tier.”
So... Winnie’s two artifacts are at least S-tier?
Damn it! Had I known such treasures existed in that dungeon, I’d have taken them!
The sword in Bai Lian’s hands suddenly felt less appealing.
He glanced at Jian Ran, who met his gaze.
“Were you going to give it to me...?”
Before she could finish, Bai Lian stashed the sword away without a second thought.
With feigned innocence, he asked, “What were you saying?”
Jian Ran’s expression remained neutral. “Nothing. Let’s keep moving.”
The centaur knight seemed to be the final guardian, as the 11th and 12th floors were eerily quiet.
When they reached the 12th floor, Bai Lian froze.
Before them stretched a long, pitch-black corridor.
The walls, painted in light-absorbing darkness, bore twisted, indistinct murals that emanated dread.
In the staff dormitory, players peered through crimson-hazed windows.
Suddenly, a violet beam sliced through the fog, blasting a hole in the wall!
A player nearly lost his manhood as the laser seared between his legs.
“WHAT THE HELL?!”
Back on the 12th floor, Bai Lian strolled past the now-blank walls.
At the corridor’s end stood a massive metal door labeled Archive.
“Can you open this?” Bai Lian asked.
Jian Ran nodded, producing a palm-sized Bagua Wheel.
“It’ll take 30 minu—”
Click.
Bai Lian inserted a plain key into the lock. The door swung open.
Jian Ran’s jaw dropped. “How...?”
“Universal Key. Ever heard of it?” He winked.
Inside, the stench of blood and rot overwhelmed them.
The floor squelched with gore—limbs, decaying corpses, and glass tanks of grotesque experiments filled the room.
This... is the company’s “archive”?