I’m a Max-Level Taoist Master, and You’re Throwing Me Into a Rules-Based Horror Game?! - Chapter 13

Chapter 13: The Familiar Ten-Minute Wait!

At this moment, every chosen one—except Zhang Yangqing—was utterly exhausted.

Playing with children, assembling wax figures, moving cabinets in Zone B… None of these tasks could be done without significant physical effort. Most chosen ones had to take frequent breaks during the moving process, and by the time they finished, over an hour had passed. With only thirty minutes left until the next patrol, all they craved was a chance to rest in the security room.

But then—the phone rang.

It was the delivery driver.

With trepidation, the chosen ones answered. The driver informed them he’d arrive in ten minutes and requested that the security guard (i.e., the chosen one) receive the goods. Then, he hung up.

John, the American chosen one, quickly reviewed the rules:

• Rule 6: Delivery personnel are always trustworthy. Try to accommodate their requests.

But the rule didn’t say they had to comply—just that they should. Based on past experiences, John guessed refusing wouldn’t be catastrophic. However, fulfilling the request might yield valuable intel.

After all, it was only 3:30 AM. Rule 10 stated the shift would end at 8:00 AM, meaning two more patrols at 4:00 and 6:00. More information meant better survival odds in this eerie wax museum.

Besides, Rule 6 explicitly called delivery drivers “trustworthy.” John decided to hear the driver out.

Still, with ten minutes until arrival, the chosen ones had time to prepare.

Most knew better than to waste these minutes resting.

The first time the trial had given them ten minutes, many had failed to notice their phones were dead—and died as a result.

This ten-minute window was just as critical.

At this stage, only the sharpest (or luckiest) remained.

Almost instinctively, every chosen one grabbed the museum map.

New locations now appeared:

• Restaurant
• Surveillance Room
• Electrical Room
• Staff Lounge
• Archives
• Storage

After hours of labor, hunger and thirst gnawed at them.

Rule 8 came to mind:
If hungry, visit the museum restaurant. Ensure you’re alone while eating. When heating food, check for flammable materials to avoid irreversible consequences.

The first half seemed safe—finding food was logical. Without energy, completing patrols would be impossible.

Human instinct drove most toward the restaurant.

But Zhang Yangqing and a few others headed straight for the surveillance room.

Knowledge was power. Understanding the museum’s secrets took priority.

While others dragged their feet, Zhang moved with ease.

Why?

He’d barely lifted a finger in the exhibition hall.

Dodging wax figures had been his only exertion.

The real labor? Delegated to the restless spirits.

Few chosen ones could boss around the supernatural so effortlessly.

(Though he wasn’t the first—some in past trials had manipulated ghosts into fighting each other.)

John and other keyholders also went to the surveillance room.

To the sharpest minds, hunger was an obvious trap.

…

The Surveillance Room Revelation

The moment they entered, Rahman, the Egyptian chosen one, frowned.

“Something’s off here. But what?”

He wasn’t alone. Everyone noticed the anomaly.

Over 200 live feeds covered the walls.

Most showed the museum’s interiors—expected for a high-security wax exhibit.

But the other hundred?

They displayed streets, alleys, and every corner of the city.

One camera even tracked a slow-moving truck—likely the delivery vehicle.

Every inch of its route was monitored.

Why?

John frowned. “Rule 6 says delivery guys are safe. So why spy on them?”

Rahman’s eyes narrowed. “What if the ‘trustworthy’ driver gets replaced en route?”

If so, the impostor wasn’t safe.

And Rule 1 forbade opening the door for anyone—inside or out.

Rahman abandoned the restaurant plan. Observation came first.

(As one of only four keyholders, his instincts were razor-sharp.)

Meanwhile, Zhang Yangqing considered Rahman’s theory—then left for the restaurant.

He had his own suspicions to confirm.

…

The Restaurant Trap

Museum restaurants were typically overpriced pit stops for tourists.

But this one?

A blatant scam.

Zhang stared at the menu in disbelief:

• $9 for a soda.
• $24 for a chicken leg.

If this world’s economy mirrored reality, prices were tripled.

How… generous.

The kitchen fridge held two hefty steaks.

Starving chosen ones salivated—but Rule 8’s warning echoed:

• Eat alone.
• Check for flammables before heating food.

But Rule 2 claimed: “You’re the only person in the museum.”

A contradiction?

No. A clue.

Those who’d visited the surveillance room realized the truth:

Cameras.

Rule 2 referred to physical presence. But nothing stopped outsiders from watching the feeds.

The delivery driver wasn’t the only one who could see you.

And Rule 1’s mandate was absolute: No exceptions. No opening the door.

Conclusion?

Avoid the cameras’ gaze at all costs.