I’m a Max-Level Taoist Master, and You’re Throwing Me Into a Rules-Based Horror Game?! - Chapter 127

Chapter 127: A Unique Interpretation of the Rules—Boldness Comes from True Skill! 

When the three overlords of this prison chased after him, Zhang Yangqing stood face-to-face with two prison guards.

As inmates, they were well aware of the guards’ power.

Even though they wanted to tear Zhang Yangqing apart, they remained obedient in the presence of the guards.

Despite their aggressive demeanor, the guards could end their lives in an instant.

Seeing Zhang Yangqing “narrowly escape danger,” many breathed a sigh of relief.

They assumed that as long as Zhang Yangqing had the guards’ protection, his life wouldn’t be in serious jeopardy.

The scene shifted continuously as all the “Chosen Ones” (Tian Xuan Zhe) and inmates followed the guards to a large dining hall.

Instinctively, the Chosen Ones began searching for the rules.

Whether newcomers or veterans, survival depended on identifying and adhering to the rules—a fundamental truth ingrained in their minds.

On a sign at the dining hall entrance, they found the following regulations:

Prison Dining Rules:

1. Make noise while eating—the louder, the better. Otherwise, the guards will assume you’re still hungry.

2. If you return from the restroom and find your plate tampered with, knock on the table three times, and the guards will replace it.

3. If you experience adverse physical reactions while eating, this is normal.

4. If you notice an inmate not finishing their food, report it to the guards. It will benefit you.

5. Once you choose a seat, you cannot switch. You may only leave the dining hall after finishing your meal.

Abdul, the Chosen One from Turban Country, pondered deeply after reading these rules.

The regulations here were peculiar.

His interpretation of Rule 1 suggested that eating quietly would make the guards think he was still hungry and keep serving him food.

In the “Strange Tales World,” being hungry was dangerous, but overeating could also lead to problems.

Eating until half-full seemed like the safest approach.

Moreover, Rule 3 stated that adverse physical reactions were “normal.” What did that imply?

Were they being encouraged to eat more?

If they were expected to work later, eating more might be necessary.

After all, prisons didn’t tolerate idleness—inmates were forced to labor during free time.

Failing to complete tasks would result in severe punishment.

Suddenly, Abdul recalled another rule—Prisoner Rule 5:

“If the guards serve food from a red cart, you may eat it. If they use a blue cart, do not refuse outright.”

Food from the red cart was safe, while the blue cart’s offerings were likely contaminated.

Not only should they avoid eating it, but they should also steer clear of those who did.

The question was: How could they ensure they got food from the red cart?

Having served time in prison himself, Abdul knew that meals were only distributed after all inmates were seated—a standard prison procedure.

The final dining rule explicitly stated that once seated, they couldn’t change spots.

Combining this with other rules and his real-life experience, Abdul concluded that leaving food uneaten would lead to severe punishment.

Thus, the first challenge in the dining hall was selecting the right seat—one that would grant them access to the red cart’s food.

Many Chosen Ones were puzzled: How could they predict where the red cart would go?

After scanning the room, they saw no carts in sight.

Did this mean their fate depended purely on luck?

Here, Abdul’s experience gave him an edge: Follow the veteran inmates.

Those who had survived this long undoubtedly knew the cart’s pattern. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have lived to see another day.

If luck wasn’t on their side, observing which inmates moved with confidence—exchanging nods or greetings—would reveal the seasoned prisoners.

Abdul quickly identified a few such figures and followed them to Area A.

The dining hall was divided into three sections: A, B, and C, with restrooms near Area C.

The rules prohibited changing seats but didn’t forbid trips to the restroom.

Regardless of the reason for this rule, Abdul, sharp as ever, scrutinized every detail for clues.

In the Strange Tales World, knowledge was power.

Abdul’s reasoning aligned with expert analyses from various nations.

He also noticed something peculiar about this prison:

Among the hundreds of inmates, about half appeared human, while the rest were mutants or individuals with supernatural abilities.

Without exception, all were restrained by wristbands that nullified their powers, reducing them to ordinary humans.

This wasn’t particularly shocking—the Strange Tales World was full of bizarre creatures.

However, the guards were all ordinary humans, unarmed but equipped with controllers capable of executing inmates.

This was the extent of Abdul’s observations.

Meanwhile, other astute Chosen Ones caught on and chose to sit with the veterans.

Once seated, everyone remained silent, hands on their knees, backs straight.

Even if they wanted to ingratiate themselves with the veterans, the Chosen Ones dared not speak.

They mimicked the veterans’ posture perfectly, embodying the herd mentality of newcomers fearful of breaking protocol.

Apart from footsteps, the dining hall was eerily quiet.

Roughly 70 Chosen Ones had figured out the trick and chosen the “correct” seats.

The rest either failed to notice, sat randomly, or realized too late that the veterans’ tables were full, forcing them to settle elsewhere.

Among them, Zhang Yangqing stood out as the most unconventional.

Even Gregori, after careful observation, had selected a seat.

Gregori’s prior experience in the Strange Tales World compensated for his slower reaction time. His agility allowed him to secure a spot at the last moment.

This relieved Ramen Country’s viewers, who had feared their Chosen One would falter here.

Indeed, experienced Chosen Ones could detect subtle anomalies.

When the red cart arrived, Gregori inwardly rejoiced at his correct choice.

The thought made him sneer at the Dragon Nation’s Celestial Master (Zhang Yangqing).

“You’ve just cleared a few more rounds than me and spotted some hidden details. Don’t think you’re superior. A few more attempts, and I’ll surpass you.”

Gregori had shed the arrogance of a top-tier transcendent.

Stripped of his powers, he found solace in small victories, like solving this minor puzzle.

A newfound exhilaration surged within him.

Even without strength, I can rely on wits to survive.

The thrill of deciphering the rules intoxicated him.

During Gregori’s seating ordeal, the most absurd event in the Strange Tales World unfolded.

Viewers worldwide had assumed the Dragon Nation’s Celestial Master, with his peerless intellect and experience, would solve this trivial challenge effortlessly.

Yet, Zhang Yangqing’s approach was both lightning-fast and utterly baffling.

He strode in, picked a seat at random—in Area C, near the exit and restrooms, far from the “correct” answer—and sat down with unshakable confidence.

His decisiveness even made the veterans doubt their own judgment.

Given that experts from various nations had already dissected this challenge and revealed the “right” strategy, the Celestial Master’s seemingly careless choice stunned everyone.

His indifference suggested he might have entered this round without a brain.

The global chatroom erupted.

• “The Dragon Nation’s Celestial Master is done for this round. What a shame! I thought he’d shine in later, unrestricted Strange Tales Worlds!” (IP: Football Country)

• “This round’s constraints are too harsh for transcendents. Can’t blame him.” (IP: Kangaroo Country)

• “See? He’s just a brute relying on strength. Without it, he’s nothing.” (IP: Ramen Country)

• “Power enables trial and error. Without it, one wrong move means death.” (IP: Iron Tower Country)

• “Glad our nation didn’t send a transcendent. The loss would’ve been devastating.” (IP: Britannia)

• “Such is the Strange Tales World—a single misstep can spell doom.” (IP: Iron Tower Country)

• “With the Dragon Nation’s ace gone, who will conquer the weirder worlds ahead?” (IP: Eagle Nation)

• “What? I just immigrated to the Dragon Nation! Is their top player really out? I was counting on those rewards!” (IP: Dragon Nation)

• “Good thing I’m still in line. Canceling my immigration plans now.” (IP: Ramen Country)

Such was the nature of the masses—easily swayed by trends, quick to praise or condemn without seeking truth.

For many, facts mattered less than the thrill of joining the mob, of standing atop moral high grounds to pass judgment.

Once the Chosen Ones were seated, the guards began distributing meals via carts.

As Abdul predicted, the veterans’ seats in Area A received food from the red cart.

Area B had a mix, with a minority getting red-cart meals and most receiving blue-cart offerings.

Area C? Exclusively blue-cart food.

This crushed the hopes of Dragon Nation viewers who had clung to the possibility of their Celestial Master’s survival.

Had he truly missed this rule?

Abdul, meanwhile, observed others while eating, mimicking their actions.

As soon as the meal began, the dining hall erupted with ravenous sounds.

Each inmate ate noisily, as if fearing the guards would force more food on them.

The crocodile-man had a robust appetite, consuming four plates quietly before making a racket on the fifth.

The electric-blue man finished three plates, while the mad scientist managed two before reaching his limit.

The veterans ate until stuffed before leaving.

Abdul’s first bite nearly made him gag—the food resembled pig slop, reeking and filled with unidentifiable chunks.

Yet, since the rules deemed it edible and the veterans ate heartily, he pinched his nose and forced it down.

After the first plate, a burning sensation spread through his body, as if melting him from within.

He feared he had eaten something lethal.

But recalling Rule 3—adverse reactions were normal—he pressed on.

Was this fiery agony the “normal” state in this world?

Minutes later, the pain faded, replaced by an oddly pleasurable sensation, akin to euphoria.

Intrigued, Abdul went for a second plate. He was among the few Chosen Ones daring enough to eat multiple servings.

Others weren’t so fortunate.

Those stuck with blue-cart meals had no choice but to choke it down, terrified of the guards’ wrath.

Some resorted to stuffing their mouths and vomiting in the restroom.

As long as their plates were empty, they technically followed the rules.

Many felt this round was pure torture.

The red-cart food was barely edible, but the blue-cart’s offerings were straight from the sewers—inedible slop.

For the Chosen Ones of India and Cherry Blossom Country, it tasted oddly homely.

Now, the downside of randomized selection became apparent.

Many nations lacked volunteers, leaving their fates to chance.

Some Chosen Ones, slow to react or physically unfit, collapsed after consuming the blue-cart’s poison before reaching the restroom.

A few, panicked in this five-star nightmare, attempted to flee—only to be beaten to death by the guards.

47 Chosen Ones perished in the dining hall alone.

Random selections rarely survived the Strange Tales World’s ruthlessness.

Gregori, despite solving the puzzle, faced his own humiliation.

Proud of his correct choice, his triumph evaporated at the sight of the putrid “pig slop.”

“I am a Cardinal of the Holy Church! How can I eat this filth?”

The thought of his peers’ mockery tormented him.

Yet, under the guard’s watchful gaze and powerless to resist, he forced it down, consoling himself:

“The Dragon Nation’s Celestial Master is eating it too. At least I’m not alone in this disgrace.”

He swore it was the worst meal of his life—worse than fermented herring.

After one plate, his body reacted mildly, and he left, his pride shattered.

No longer the composed transcendent, Gregori moved with the timidity of the powerless, eyeing the guards’ controllers with concealed dread.

When in Rome, bow to its rulers.

Abdul, however, adapted after two plates, even beginning to enjoy the bizarre aftereffects.

Each wave of discomfort left him refreshed, though his full stomach warned against overindulgence.

Noticing all plates were clean, he followed the crocodile-man out, planning to curry favor.

Now, the spotlight turned to the Dragon Nation’s Celestial Master.

While others had either left or died, Zhang Yangqing remained seated, untouched food before him.

International viewers assumed he had realized his mistake too late or was too prideful to eat.

Some lamented that he should’ve swallowed his pride, like Gregori, to survive.

The global chat buzzed with theories, all concluding that the Celestial Master was doomed.

Then, Zhang Yangqing did the unthinkable.

He beckoned a guard—a mustached, sunglasses-wearing man with a muscular build.

“What is it?” the guard asked.

“I’d like to report my neighbor for not finishing his food,” Zhang Yangqing replied.

The guard glanced at the neighboring plate—spotless.

Before he could question further, Zhang Yangqing dumped his own meal onto the empty plate.

Right in front of the guard.

The inmate in question had already left, so who could contradict him?

If I say he left food, then he left food!

The dining hall fell silent.

Viewers stared in disbelief.

“Wait—this works?!”

“Isn’t this breaking the rules?”

“Why isn’t the guard attacking him?!”

Zhang Yangqing’s understanding of the rules surpassed all others.

The rules implied they should eat heartily and clean their plates.

Newcomers, fearing mistakes, would mimic the veterans.

This wasn’t wrong—but nowhere did the rules state the Chosen Ones had to eat.

So Zhang Yangqing simply refused.

Why eat when I’m not hungry?

True mastery lay in recognizing that the Strange Tales World offered multiple paths to survival.

Others’ limitations didn’t bind him.

The viewers gaped; even the guard was stunned.

His expression seemed to say, “You’re cheating—and not even trying to hide it?”

Yet, Zhang Yangqing had violated no rules.

The guard couldn’t punish him.

No rule forbade transferring food between plates.

Zhang Yangqing shrugged. Call it creative interpretation—but prove I broke any rule.

A top-tier survivor’s mindset: Every challenge holds rewards, often granted by the guards.

Can’t obtain them conventionally?

Then create your own method.

If the reward exists, there’s always a way to claim it.