I’m a Max-Level Taoist Master, and You’re Throwing Me Into a Rules-Based Horror Game?! - Chapter 136

Chapter 136: Even When Holding Back, Zhang Yangqing Still Has No Rivals! 

Zhang Yangqing’s words didn’t just shock his Snake-Eyed Henchman—they also sent waves of astonishment through audiences worldwide.

“The Heavenly Master is actually being quite modest when he says he’s invincible.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions. Even the Chief Heavenly Master must remain humble.”

“I get humility, but… does the Heavenly Master even have any real rivals?”

“The way he phrased it makes me think not only does he have no rivals, but no one even dares challenge him.”

This last comment resonated with many. After all, the title of “Leader of the Mystic Sects” wasn’t handed to him—it was earned through sheer force.

In the Dragon Kingdom, every generation of Heavenly Masters had maintained their dominance through overwhelming strength.

Right now, if you went to any sect and asked if they dared question Zhang Yangqing’s authority, none would even claim they could survive a single move from him.

Watching so many people express reverence for Zhang Yangqing, the disciples of Dragon-Tiger Mountain couldn’t help but sigh.

Respect truly is earned through power. In the face of absolute strength, people have no choice but to bow their heads.

Seeing how effortlessly Zhang Yangqing slaughtered enhanced superhumans in the Rule-Shattering World—combined with his past performances—Zhang Xuanjing, a fellow body-refinement cultivator and user of the Golden Light Mantra, was utterly baffled.

To him, Zhang Yangqing had taken the Golden Light Mantra to a level beyond comprehension, transforming it into a divine incantation capable of annihilating heaven and earth.

Manifesting weapons from golden light was terrifying enough, but Zhang Yangqing could condense it into a sword capable of ending worlds.

And that was with him holding back. The thought alone was horrifying.

Even with his spiritual energy suppressed, Zhang Yangqing’s physical prowess defied logic.

While outsiders might not notice, Zhang Xuanjing could see it clearly—Zhang Yangqing had reached a realm where sheer force could shatter all techniques.

A flick of his finger could reduce anything to dust.

It was a level most body-refinement masters could never achieve, even after a lifetime of cultivation.

Witnessing this, Zhang Xuanjing began questioning his own judgment.

Is this really the same Zhang Yangqing who used to joke around with me?

Before entering the Rule-Shattering World, Zhang Yangqing had just been a talented, handsome junior disciple.

Zhang Xuanjing had assumed they were roughly equal in strength.

Maybe Zhang Yangqing had become Heavenly Master simply because their master favored him.

Zhang Xuanjing, never one to compete, hadn’t complained.

But now, as Zhang Yangqing revealed just a fraction of his true power, Zhang Xuanjing wondered if he’d been blind all along.

How could I have ever thought I was on par with the Heavenly Master?

What kind of delusion was that?!

Unable to contain himself, Zhang Xuanjing turned to Su Muyu and asked, “Eldest Brother, how did we not know the Heavenly Master was this strong?”

Su Muyu sighed. “Master didn’t want to discourage your cultivation, so he never told you.”

The unspoken message: You think I handle internal affairs because I enjoy it? No—it’s because I realized long ago how monstrous he is!

Su Muyu had been the first to grasp Zhang Yangqing’s true strength. From that moment on, he lost all interest in the Heavenly Master position.

Even if Zhang Yangqing stepped down, Su Muyu wouldn’t take it.

Frowning, Zhang Xuanjing finally voiced a question that had haunted him for years.

“Eldest Brother… has the Heavenly Master ever lost a fight?”

Su Muyu pondered before answering. “I’m not sure. But I remember once, Master took him下山 to temper his pride by challenging other sects.”

This piqued the interest of nearby disciples, who crowded around.

“What happened next, Eldest Brother?”

“When Master returned, he said: ‘I thought Yangqing was merely the strongest among Dragon-Tiger Mountain’s younger generation. Turns out, after challenging every sect… the boy is the strongest in the world!’”

The disciples gasped.

Damn. Master meant to humble Zhang Yangqing, but instead, Zhang Yangqing humbled every young genius in the land.

What was supposed to be a lesson in humility became a one-sided beatdown.

To this day, many of the Dragon Kingdom’s prodigies still trembled at the sight of Zhang Yangqing, their trauma lingering.

Such was his terror.

Su Muyu shrugged. You ask if he’s ever lost? I don’t know. Master always told him to hold back—and even then, no one could match him.

This was also why no sect dared disrespect Zhang Yangqing.

Talk trash about him, and when he comes knocking, don’t cry on your knees.

Some sects even suspected the old Heavenly Master hadn’t been training Zhang Yangqing—he’d been showing off.

But they kept that thought to themselves.

Rather than feeling disheartened, Zhang Xuanjing grew excited.

This was the mindset of a true cultivator: only by seeing the pinnacle could one grasp how far they had to go.

Otherwise, every cultivator who made minor progress would arrogantly believe themselves invincible, lamenting how this “peaceful era” denied them a chance to shine.

Now, it was clear—this era had saved them.

This realization dawned on most superhumans who witnessed Zhang Yangqing’s feats.

But while others could only dream of meeting him, Zhang Xuanjing had a unique advantage.

As Zhang Yangqing’s sworn brother, all he had to do was ask sincerely, and Zhang Yangqing would guide him.

With renewed determination, Zhang Xuanjing split his focus between cultivation and watching Zhang Yangqing’s screen.

If I’m randomly selected next time, I’ll have to rely on myself.

……

Back in the Rule-Shattering World, with the botanical garden’s treasure secured, Zhang Yangqing prepared to leave.

Though the Snake-Eyed Henchman had grown exponentially stronger, he remained dutiful as ever.

He knew his place: no matter how powerful he became, in front of this man, he was still just a lackey.

Besides, his boss had treated him incredibly well—even giving him the Mystic Fruit. What more could he ask for?

He wasn’t ungrateful.

In this world, most NPCs reciprocated kindness.

Gathering the colored fruits into sacks, the henchman hauled two bulging bags behind Zhang Yangqing.

While Zhang Yangqing’s journey seemed effortless, the same couldn’t be said for the Red-Cloaked Cardinal of Pasta Nation, Gregorio.

A man who refused to bow or back down, Gregorio’s experience was far more grueling—arguably harder than even ordinary challengers faced.

Unwilling to curry favor, he made enemies of every prisoner in the garden.

Lacking Zhang Yangqing’s overwhelming destructive power and with weaker physical cultivation, Gregorio couldn’t even be bothered to hide the fruits.

Instead, he spent the entire time fleeing like a rat chased by a pack of cats.

If the previous round had seen him as the only one who could rival—or at least approach—the Dragon Kingdom’s Heavenly Master…

If he’d once been hailed as the “true counterpart to the Dragon Kingdom’s Heavenly Master,” even boasting that with more experience, he’d surpass him…

Then this round laid bare the insurmountable gap between them.

While Zhang Yangqing slaughtered his way through effortlessly even without spiritual energy, Gregorio—deprived of holy power—was now a bedraggled mess, hunted at every turn.

Even the most stubborn Pasta Nation viewers struggled to defend him.

The difference wasn’t just noticeable—it was glaring.

In the grand hall of the Holy See, the Pope watched Gregorio’s performance with concern but little reaction.

A nearby guard, sensing the Pope’s displeasure, quickly interjected:

“If I’d gone instead—as a Holy Knight, my physical prowess would’ve given me a huge advantage in this scenario. Gregorio specializes in holy energy. With it suppressed, he’s helpless.”

The Pope’s expression softened slightly.

People always needed a way to save face.

He refused to admit Gregorio was inferior to the Dragon Kingdom’s Heavenly Master.

But witnessing Zhang Yangqing’s display—effortlessly slaughtering anomalies with pure physical might—stirred something in the Pope.

This man hasn’t even tapped into his energy reserves. He’s a perfect warrior—master of both internal and external arts.

…..

Back in the Rule-Shattering World, the most heart-stopping performance belonged to the Turban Nation’s challenger, Abdul.

Forced to retreat by the four prison bosses, Abdul lurked at a distance, observing.

His trump card? The guard uniform he wore.

Prisoners had to return by 6 PM. Without clocks, they relied on instinct.

Most left early to be safe.

But guards could have others open the doors for them.

Abdul had even made a point of greeting the guards earlier—he knew the prisoners couldn’t afford to wait.

By 5 PM, the sounds of battle erupted near the Mystic Fruit.

Its exceptional quality had sparked a bloody free-for-all among the bosses, none willing to share.

Feeding it required sacrificing underlings, and no one wanted to offer their own.

The underlings, naturally, weren’t keen on dying either.

Arguments escalated into factional warfare.

For ordinary challengers like Abdul, the only option was to play the waiting game.

Even with a controller, he couldn’t take on all the prisoners at once.

There were other pitfalls, too—the bosses had sent patrols to watch the perimeter.

Any disturbance would alert them immediately.

But patrolling was no easy task.

This was a garden of deadly flora.

Underlings had to dodge man-eating plants and scan for intruders.

They couldn’t hide—they had to stick to open paths.

This let Abdul pick them off one by one, using the controller to execute them silently.

A single misstep would’ve meant death.

This stage tested an ordinary challenger’s observation, judgment, and—above all—nerve.

Calling Abdul “brave” might not be accurate.

He simply knew this was his best shot at survival.

Whether by choice or necessity, he had to commit fully to his path.

As Abdul crept closer, the first sign of danger was the stench of blood—a familiar warning in this world.

Then, nearing the Mystic Fruit’s location, he found the expected carnage: corpses and gore everywhere.

He even witnessed the Mad Scientist disable his inhibitor, his mechanical arm morphing into blades that impaled the other bosses—including his own ally, the Blue Electric Man.

This provided enough bodies to feed the fruit.

The Mad Scientist, ever the strategist, had anticipated the “guard’s” return.

But he hadn’t expected Abdul to slip past all his sentries.

Just as the disruptor’s effect wore off, Abdul pressed the controller’s red button.

The Mad Scientist felt a surge of energy explode from his arm into his heart and brain.

Even as realization dawned, it was too late to react.

So close…

With a final glare of hatred, he collapsed, lifeless.

Abdul, ever cautious, pressed the button several more times to ensure the kill.

With that, all four prison bosses lay dead.

Abdul, now ruthless, executed every last underling.

Such was the advantage of being a “guard.”

The area around the Mystic Fruit was well-lit, granting Abdul a clear view.

Only those with nerves of steel dared return to seize such an opportunity.

Though not as dominant as the Dragon Kingdom’s Heavenly Master, Abdul had still secured the fruit.

Few challengers could claim the same.

This feat alone placed him among the elite of this round.

For ordinary challengers, it was a distant dream.

For Zhang Yangqing? Just another stroll in the garden.

Holding the five-colored Mystic Fruit, Abdul grimaced.

If he could avoid eating it, he would.

As a human, the idea repulsed him.

But he had no choice.

Gritting his teeth, he devoured the entire fruit—head-sized and all.

The moment he swallowed, his eyes blazed crimson.

His skin burned as if dunked in lava.

Even his spit sizzled against the ground.

Abdul writhed in agony, clawing at his face, his screams echoing through the garden.

He teetered on the brink of death.

Turban Nation viewers were aghast.

“Did Abdul eat the wrong thing? The rules never said the fruit was edible!”

“Maybe it’s not meant for challengers. His boldness is good, but his body might not meet the requirements.”

“The Dragon Kingdom’s Heavenly Master didn’t eat it either—he gave it to his lackey. Abdul should’ve done the same.”

“Nonsense! The Heavenly Master just didn’t need it. Experts confirmed the fruit grants powers. Let’s hope Abdul pulls through.”

Unaware of the chatter, Abdul wished for death.

Every cell felt shredded, every inch of skin scorched.

The torture lasted ten full minutes, leaving him collapsed in a mud pit, his cries unheard as most prisoners had already left.

Had even one lingered, Abdul would’ve died.

But when the torment passed, he emerged reborn.

Unbeknownst to him, his eyes had mutated, and lava-like cracks now traced his skin.

Power surged through him.

A casual punch felled a towering tree.

Even Abdul was stunned.

Did I just… punch down a tree?

And it felt easy.

He wondered how much stronger he’d be without the inhibitor bracelet.

He’d clearly gained abilities, though their full scope eluded him.

Hiding the bracelet under his sleeve, he adjusted his clothes and sprinted for the exit.

Crash!

His enhanced speed and strength sent him plowing through another tree.

Such was the struggle of controlling newfound power.

The world seemed to slow around him, every detail crisp.

Abdul was ecstatic.

He was beginning to grasp the meaning of “cataclysmic apocalypse.”

The core eluded him, but one thing was certain:

Strength was key.

This round’s essence was transformation—the transformation of power!

Eager to test his limits, Abdul ambushed a straggling prisoner.

His hand pierced the man’s chest effortlessly before tearing him apart like paper.

No controller needed now.

The Mystic Fruit’s gift was raw, unchecked might.

Turban Nation erupted in celebration.

In a death game like this, such power could make Abdul a standout force.

His survival odds had skyrocketed.

Even the Red-Cloaked Cardinal of Pasta Nation was floundering.

Overcome with pride, Turban Nation viewers flooded the global chat:

“I hereby declare that Abdul, devourer of the Mystic Fruit, is this round’s strongest challenger!” (IP: Turban Nation)

But two replies swiftly deflated their hype:

“Funny how the Dragon Kingdom’s Heavenly Master tossed it to his lackey without a second thought.” (IP: Persia)

“Said lackey still kowtows to him. Your guy eats one fruit and suddenly he’s hot stuff?” (IP: Babylon)

The Turban Nation fans had no rebuttal.

Because deep down… they knew it was true.