I’m a Max-Level Taoist Master, and You’re Throwing Me Into a Rules-Based Horror Game?! - Chapter 14

Chapter 14: An Unsolvable Puzzle? Or Is There a Solution?

During this time, the chosen ones’ ways of thinking began to diverge.

Among the 23 surviving participants, there were over ten different interpretations of the rules.

Avoiding surveillance was just one of them.

As usual, their earlier experiences were meant to help them familiarize themselves with the environment.

Now, it was time to see how they would use the information they’d gathered to analyze the situation.

There had to be more than one way to clear this stage—but there were far more ways to fail.

A single piece of incorrect information or a single overlooked detail could lead to a disastrous ending.

Even those who hadn’t been to the surveillance room wouldn’t choose to eat in such a place.

Rule 6 stated:

• When eating, make sure you are alone.
• If heating food, always check for flammable materials nearby. Failure to do so may result in irreversible consequences.

The restaurant’s kitchen had a microwave. Perhaps using it would ignite nearby flammable materials and start a fire?

If a fire broke out and damaged the wax figures, it would count as a failure—since it would be their own fault.

No one wanted to risk that.

So, many chose to pack up the two steaks and find a “safe” place to eat.

Some of the smarter ones even took the microwave with them.

But most returned to the surveillance room, searching for blind spots.

After careful observation, they discovered there were no surveillance cameras inside the security office.

Just then, the delivery driver called, saying they had arrived at the entrance and needed the guard to open the gate.

After hanging up, most of the chosen ones took deep breaths, their minds racing.

Checking the surveillance feed, they saw a truck parked outside the main gate.

They grabbed their phones, flashlights, and batons, then cautiously approached the entrance.

Through the peephole, they saw two honest-looking faces, both wearing identical uniforms.

After confirming their identities, the chosen ones opened the door.

Instantly, a wave of hot air rushed in—a stark contrast to the cold atmosphere inside the wax museum.

For the first time in this stage, the chosen ones saw actual people.

And they seemed normal.

Still, no one let their guard down. They carefully engaged in conversation, hoping to extract useful information.

When the delivery drivers followed standard procedure and asked to bring the cargo inside, most of the chosen ones refused, insisting they’d carry it in themselves.

It was just one wax figure, and it didn’t look too heavy.

They just hoped they weren’t violating Rule 1.

The drivers didn’t object—who wouldn’t appreciate someone else doing the heavy lifting?

Only one person allowed them inside without question: Zhang Yangqing.

When viewers saw Zhang letting the drivers in, their hearts raced.

“Isn’t he breaking Rule 1? It says no one is allowed in or out!”
“Relax, did you just wake up? This guy’s broken rules before and been fine.”
“You’re really gonna lecture him?”
“He’s beaten actual monsters—two guys are nothing. Plus, he hasn’t used much energy. Even if something happens, he’ll handle it. Weren’t the drivers confirmed to be harmless anyway?”

Hu Liuqi (analyst): “I think Rule 1 can be interpreted like this: During the night shift, other people might try to enter or leave the wax museum. Some of them could be dangerous or trigger supernatural events. Rule 1 forbids letting anyone in or out to prevent triggering those events. The same logic applies to Rule 3 (don’t make direct eye contact). If you’re not afraid of supernatural consequences, you can break the rules—except for Rule 5, which is an instant death condition. The others might have workarounds. But I don’t recommend testing them casually.”

Not just the experts from Dragon Country—analysts from other nations had their own theories.

They believed Zhang was testing whether the drivers were genuine, which would help him judge the reliability of their information.

After all, he was in a league of his own. He had options others didn’t.

As analysts worldwide debated, the delivery drivers—whether outside or inside—made a request:

“It’s been a long trip, and we’re really thirsty. Could we get some water?”

The chosen ones knew: this was the test.

Getting them water didn’t seem like a big deal.

The restaurant had cups, so they quickly fetched two glasses.

The smarter ones, however, asked the drivers to wait outside, closed the door, fetched the water, and then reopened it—ensuring they didn’t violate Rule 1.

After the drivers drank, everyone listened closely.

Driver A: “It’s been scorching lately. Even at night, the wax would’ve melted if our truck’s AC had failed. That would’ve ruined this delivery.”

Driver B: “Thanks, guard. But be careful—don’t open the door for strangers. Rumor has it a mother and child from out of town went missing around here recently. They still haven’t been found.”

Once the drivers left, the minds of two chosen ones—John (Eagle Country) and Rahman (Pyramid Country)—exploded with realization.

The missing mother and child. The meat in the restaurant. The female ghost begging for food. The playful little boy.

Everything connected.

“Are the woman and child in the exhibition room the missing pair? Did they turn into wax figures after eating the restaurant’s meat?”

In the supernatural world, this was a major clue.

Then there was the wax figure that had begged to be let out—maybe it, too, had eaten the meat and gotten trapped.

Not just that. The chosen ones recalled how some wax figures had eerily realistic skin textures, even tiny hairs. Could they all be…?

If the drivers were trustworthy, their information made sense.

Since it was sweltering outside, the chosen ones carried the new wax figure inside to prevent damage, then locked the gate.

Back in the security office, they faced a critical question:

What should they do with the two pieces of meat?

After nearly two hours of relentless stress, most were starving.

They had less than fifteen minutes before the 4:00 AM patrol.

Without food, they wouldn’t just risk encountering supernatural threats—they might collapse mid-patrol.

Some were already dizzy.

John and Rahman were the first to piece things together.

Heating the steaks didn’t matter—they could be eaten raw.

The rules never said they couldn’t.

But to minimize risks, most chose to heat them. Raw steak was hard to swallow anyway.

Since the rules provided two steaks, one was likely safe—the other would turn them into wax figures.

The real question was: Which one was safe?

John cut into both steaks but found no visible differences.

Was he supposed to ask the mother and child?

No—that seemed suicidal.

He imagined the worst-case scenario: The muscular ghost woman was starving. If he asked her, she’d demand to see the meat—and might just take it.

Even if she didn’t steal it, could he trust her answer?

Plus, the exhibition room was a supernatural hotspot. Who knew what else lurked there?

In their weakened state, even the begging wax figure could kill them.

John and Rahman sighed in unison.

They concluded the puzzle was unsolvable.

To survive, they had to pick one—a pure 50/50 gamble.

For high-IQ individuals like them, relying on luck was unacceptable.

But they had no choice. Their energy was fading fast.

As they deliberated, time slipped away. It was now 3:49 AM.

Eleven minutes until patrol.

They needed strength now.

Gritting their teeth, they each picked a steak and ate.

Soon, the food replenished their energy.

But the outcomes diverged:

Rahman felt fine—he’d gotten lucky.

John, however, felt his limbs stiffening.

Horrified, he realized he’d eaten the wrong steak.

With his remaining strength, before fully petrifying, he sprinted out.

He still had the reward key—maybe it unlocked a room with an antidote.

Consulting the map, he dashed toward the storage room.

If there was a hiding place, it had to be there.

He raced past the lobby, exhibition halls, restaurant, and surveillance room, finally reaching storage.

He was right—the storage room had an old防盗门 (anti-theft door) requiring a key.

Fumbling, he pulled out the key—

Then something slammed into him, locking him in a death grip.

It was the begging wax figure from the exhibition room.

No matter how John struggled, the figure wouldn’t let go—it was determined to drag him down.

As his movements slowed and his body stiffened, a realization struck him.

The wax figures weren’t supposed to leave that room.

Then he remembered: When he’d entered earlier, there’d been two “trap” wax figures by the door.

Those were the seals preventing the others from escaping.

Only one chosen one had thought to reposition them after leaving.

In the exhaustion and panic of escaping the exhibition room, most—including John—hadn’t bothered.

And the begging wax figure? It had been weak then. By refusing to free it, John had made an enemy.

Strike when your opponent is vulnerable.

The real trap was at the entrance and exit.

Regret flooded John. He should’ve destroyed the wax figure when he had the chance.

In this world, mercy is suicide.

But it was too late.

Still, he wondered: Would anyone actually kill the begging wax figure on sight?

The screen for Eagle Country went dark. John had failed.

As one of the most watched participants—hailed as the highest-IQ contender—his downfall shocked viewers.

If even John couldn’t solve this, was it truly impossible?

Weren’t they all just gambling?

Then they switched to Dragon Country’s screen—where Zhang Yangqing presented a flawless, terrifying answer.

When Zhang heard Driver B mention the missing mother and child, he, too, connected it to the exhibition room’s ghosts.

With two steaks—one safe, one deadly—he turned to the drivers and smiled.

“You’ve had a long journey, and carrying that must’ve been exhausting. You’re probably hungry too. Why don’t you stay and eat with me?”

If the chosen ones didn’t want to gamble, this was the only solution.