I’m a Max-Level Taoist Master, and You’re Throwing Me Into a Rules-Based Horror Game?! - Chapter 129

Chapter 129: If I Don’t Want Subordinates, Then They Don’t Need to Live!

Prisoner Rules:

[Rule 7: As a prisoner, never think about escaping. The outside may not be safer than the prison.]

[Rule 8: If you feel your life is in danger, you can seek out a fat prison guard wearing sunglasses. He will offer you some help, but only once.]

[Rule 9: There are many surveillance cameras in the prison. If you plan to do something, avoid being caught on camera.]

[Rule 10: Do not enter areas designated for death-row inmates without permission.]

[Rule 11: Harming fellow inmates or attacking prison guards is strictly forbidden. If discovered, you will be executed immediately.]

[Rule 12: Always maintain a clear sense of self-awareness. Strengthening your physical fitness is the key to survival.]

Upon seeing these rules, the chosen ones began analyzing them carefully.

For most ordinary chosen ones, these rules seemed to hint at one thing: how to survive.

This suggested that the upcoming events would be extremely dangerous—otherwise, there wouldn’t be so many hints.

But in Zhang Yangqing’s eyes, these weren’t rules for survival—they were instructions on how to kill others.

The rules might as well have directly told him: Here’s where you can kill people.

While others saw ways to stay alive, Zhang Yangqing saw opportunities to eliminate threats.

Abdul, the chosen one from the Turban Nation, had already begun piecing things together, though without concrete evidence, he couldn’t be certain.

One thing was clear: this was no ordinary prison.

There was undoubtedly some hidden, sinister secret here.

Rule 12 mentioned “maintaining self-awareness and strengthening physical fitness,” which seemed to imply that chosen ones needed to find ways to grow stronger.

But Abdul suspected that “strengthening physical fitness” wasn’t as straightforward as it sounded.

A normal person might assume the rules were advising them to stay in good shape to handle future dangers.

But that was too simplistic. Chosen ones didn’t stay in the Strange World for long—mere physical training wouldn’t be enough to compete with the monsters in this prison.

What was needed were extreme measures, methods that might even push beyond human limits.

Abdul cross-referenced the rules from the cafeteria: If your body starts behaving abnormally, that’s normal.

In fact, after experiencing these abnormalities, he felt his body becoming more agile.

The wristband made it hard to gauge the full extent of the changes, but he conducted a small experiment.

Previously, he could only do a limited number of push-ups before tiring. Now, he could do them effortlessly.

This confirmed that his physical abilities had improved.

“Does this mean the rules are hinting that I need to seize resources?”

Abdul was one of the very few chosen ones who had deduced this.

He hadn’t yet connected this to the concept of an apocalypse, but he knew one thing for sure: getting stronger was the right path.

With this in mind, he regretted not eating more at lunch—though he doubted he could have forced down any more food.

Now, the key to survival was figuring out how to obtain more resources.

Having a clear goal made things easier. All he had to do was wait for the next event.

Abdul continued analyzing the other rules.

Rule 7 warned against escaping—a crucial point. Without the skills to survive outside, fleeing would be suicide.

Rules 8 and 9 provided survival strategies:

1. Find the fat prison guard with sunglasses. Locate him early so that if trouble arises, he could be sought out immediately. But since he would only help once, this lifeline had to be saved for emergencies.

2. Stay within camera view during activities. This would deter other inmates from attacking, as any violence caught on surveillance would lead to execution.

This was the general approach Abdul had devised.

Without further information, he avoided testing the other rules.

As an ordinary chosen one, Abdul knew that understanding the hints in the rules, thinking boldly, and abandoning conventional logic would increase his chances of survival.

Having watched many prison-based Strange Trials, he had noticed a pattern:

The survivors were often the ones who acted the least “human.”

The more ruthless the chosen one, the higher their survival rate.

In the previous round, aside from studying the Dragon Nation’s Celestial Master, Abdul had also paid attention to another chosen one—Pernalf from the Britannian Nation.

If the Celestial Master was inhumanly powerful, Pernalf’s tactics were downright monstrous.

His strategy involved framing NPCs using reward items, exploiting rules to kill them, and then gaining special abilities.

This made Abdul reconsider his approach.

While he couldn’t replicate the Celestial Master’s absurd strength, Pernalf’s “play dirty to win” tactics might be within his reach.

The rules didn’t explicitly state it, but they did hint at how to manipulate others into killing for you.

Realizing this, Abdul felt a sudden clarity—as soon as he stopped thinking like a normal person, everything made sense.

Abdul was just beginning to embrace his “inhuman” side, but for someone like Zhang Yangqing, whether he acted human or not was irrelevant.

Contrary to viewers’ assumptions, Zhang Yangqing wasn’t a reckless brute.

Without knowing most of the rules, he wouldn’t act impulsively.

But now, with more information, things were different.

Zhang Yangqing speculated that these rules weren’t the final set. The next location where rules could be obtained might hold the key to this trial.

Alternatively, only by finding the next set of rules would the true objective become clear.

The current rules mentioned death-row inmates—a level above his current status as a felon.

Right now, chosen ones didn’t even know where these death-row inmates were held, let alone how to interact with them.

But Zhang Yangqing and other sharp-minded chosen ones understood:

The rules didn’t forbid going there—they only specified the conditions under which it was allowed.

The real question was:

• How could one gain permission?

• How could one survive an encounter with a death-row inmate?

These were the concerns for most chosen ones.

Zhang Yangqing, however, was considering something else:

Would being a death-row inmate grant a better status?

Unlike previous trials where failure conditions were clear (e.g., as a security guard, don’t damage wax figures; as a tour guide, protect tourists; as a tenant, don’t wreck the property), this time, there were no obvious restrictions.

As a prisoner, taboos were minimal—only the wristbands served as instant-death deterrents.

Zhang Yangqing revisited Rule 7:

“As a prisoner, never think about escaping. The outside may not be safer than the prison.”

Breaking it down:

• Prisoners shouldn’t leave.

• But other roles, like prison guards, could.

This was a clue many chosen ones had picked up on.

Changing one’s identity became a consideration.

But Zhang Yangqing suspected the Strange World was setting a trap.

Viewers might assume that once freed from restrictions, he and Gereco would immediately kill the warden and take over—just like in the previous round.

After all, being in charge of a prison came with great authority.

But Zhang Yangqing saw a potential flaw: responsibility.

As a prisoner, if the prison exploded or other inmates died, it wasn’t his problem.

But if he became a guard—or worse, the warden—suddenly everything became his responsibility.

• Would inmate escapes count as negligence?

• Could he attack his own faction?

• Would he have to protect the prison from destruction?

Too much hassle.

Other chosen ones might benefit from becoming guards, gaining faction support and fewer restrictions.

But Zhang Yangqing had a different idea:

The worse the identity, the fewer the responsibilities.

As a death-row inmate, what obligations did he have?

If the prison—or even the world—blew up, it wasn’t his concern.

That identity came with zero restrictions.

While others sought to climb the hierarchy, Zhang Yangqing was figuring out how to descend further.

…..

In the Prisoners’ Lounge

As Zhang Yangqing pondered his next move, he noticed hostile glares directed at him.

The atmosphere in the lounge had shifted.

The prison housed over a hundred inmates, divided into factions led by three dominant figures:

1. The Blue Lightning Man

2. The Crocodile Man

3. The Mad Scientist

In prison life, newcomers had to pick a side—or face bullying from everyone.

Most chosen ones had already aligned themselves with one of these leaders, as intelligence suggested they were key figures.

• Abdul had chosen the Crocodile Man.

• Many others sided with the Mad Scientist.

• Very few dared follow the Blue Lightning Man.

Gereco, the Red-Robed Archbishop, refused to bow to any of them.

Zhang Yangqing, however, found himself standing alone against all three factions.

Earlier, Zhang Yangqing had conducted an experiment—effectively provoking all three leaders.

Now, their followers glared at him with murderous intent.

The tension in the room was suffocating.

Most inmates avoided sitting near Zhang Yangqing, fearing collateral damage.

In this prison, offending even one of these leaders was a death sentence.

Zhang Yangqing had managed to piss off all three on his first day.

To the other prisoners, his chances of surviving until nightfall were slim.

Yet, Zhang Yangqing merely yawned, completely unbothered.

“What’s the point of glaring? If you could kill me here, you would’ve already done it.”

The lounge had surveillance cameras and guards present.

Attacking here meant instant execution—as clearly stated in the rules.

Besides, if there were no cameras or guards, would they even still be breathing in his presence?

Earlier, Zhang Yangqing hadn’t known the conditions for acting.

Now that he did, he wouldn’t hold back—just not in this location.

Ignoring the hundred-plus inmates staring him down, Zhang Yangqing turned to the only subordinate still standing by his side and asked,

“You’re not scared?”

The subordinate grinned.

“Boss, if you’re not scared, why should I be?”

This follower was the same one who, back in the cafeteria, had mimicked Zhang Yangqing by reporting another inmate to get a special meal.

He was clever—otherwise, he wouldn’t have picked up on the tactic.

His appearance was unremarkable, but there was something unsettling about him.

His snake-like pupils and the way his tongue flickered when he spoke marked him as a hybrid—part human, part serpent.

In this world, that made him a mixed-blood.

Zhang Yangqing couldn’t gauge his strength, but one thing was certain:

This guy had survived this long for a reason.

Pleased with his loyalty, Zhang Yangqing nodded.

“I’m curious. This is our first meeting—why do you trust me so much?”

Usually, NPCs only submitted to Zhang Yangqing after witnessing his overwhelming power.

Their obedience was often born of fear, not genuine loyalty.

But this subordinate had aligned himself without seeing Zhang Yangqing’s full capabilities.

“Simple, Boss. I may not be strong, but I’m a good judge of character.”

“You walked in here and immediately provoked all three faction leaders. If you weren’t stupid, that meant you were stronger than them.”

“And if you were dumb, you wouldn’t have spotted the cafeteria loophole.”

“Conclusion? Following you is my best shot at survival.”

That was his explanation—though he left out one detail.

Zhang Yangqing’s demeanor.

Whether facing guards or faction leaders, Zhang Yangqing’s expression never changed.

To the subordinate, that was the mark of a true apex predator.

Once he recognized that, he knew: this was the real deal.

“Good. Stick with me, and I’ll make sure you survive—and leave this place alive.”

Zhang Yangqing appreciated smart, bold individuals—they made useful subordinates.

The snake-eyed follower quickly replied, “Thank you, Boss. Just give the orders, and I’ll follow.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll put you to work when the time comes.”

Zhang Yangqing wasn’t one for false modesty.

This was a mutual arrangement—the subordinate had chosen to bet on him, and Zhang Yangqing would deliver.

The three faction leaders might be formidable to others, but to Zhang Yangqing?

If they weren’t useful, they didn’t need to exist.

He wasn’t actively recruiting followers, but if someone willingly pledged loyalty, he wouldn’t refuse.

…..

Rest period over.

The clock read 1:30 PM.

Several guards entered and began leading groups of inmates out.

Chosen ones guessed that the real danger was about to begin.

Inside this steel fortress, there was no sky—only artificial lighting.

This suggested the Strange World’s technology was highly advanced.

After a short walk, they arrived at a massive botanical garden.

Abdul immediately sensed something was off.

Prison labor was normal, but the inmates seemed terrified of entering.

If even the seasoned prisoners were afraid, the garden had to be hiding something horrific.

Abdul began searching for rules—guidelines to survive whatever lurked inside.

When he found them posted on a sign, his throat went dry.

This was where the true horror began.

Other chosen ones broke into cold sweats upon reading the rules.

Each one seemed like a death sentence—a single misstep meant dying inside the garden.

Even Gereco, the Red-Robed Archbishop, frowned deeply.

For the first time, he had to seriously strategize—his wristband couldn’t be removed.

Zhang Yangqing, however, squinted at the rules and muttered:

“What is this, Plants vs. Zombies?”

To him, it might as well have been a game.

But for everyone else, this was the “Botanical Garden of Death.”