I’m a Max-Level Taoist Master, and You’re Throwing Me Into a Rules-Based Horror Game?! - Chapter 40

Chapter 40: The Ones Who Aren’t in Control? That’s You, Not Me!

[Rule 7: When passing a gas station, ensure the vehicle is fully refueled—even if the tank is already full.]

[Rule 8: If the radio turns on automatically, listen carefully. It may broadcast useful news.]

[Rule 9: Should any passenger become agitated, play their requested song to calm them.]

[Rule 10: If the driver deviates from the route, correct him immediately. Your life depends on it.]

[Rule 11: Never expose your neck near the passengers.]

[Rule 12: Upon arrival, confirm no passengers remain onboard. They might prove helpful later.]

[Rule 13: The driver tends to doze off. Wake him politely to avoid startling him.]

[Rule 14: Losing all passengers revokes your tour guide status, resulting in failure.]

The moment contestants read Rule 7, many froze in disbelief.

Refueling costs money.

The rule demanded a full tank regardless—meaning fuel was non-negotiable. Without it, the bus wouldn’t reach its destination. And failing that? A death sentence.

Panicked, contestants checked their pockets. Empty. Their assistant? Also broke.

The “tips” from earlier were the key.

Here lay the trap:

• 39 contestants had accepted the money.
• 159 had refused.
• Only Mitarai Saburō (Japan) took a selective portion.

Now, the 159 faced disaster. No money meant no fuel—and no survival. Their only hope? Begging passengers for cash, provided they avoided instant-death triggers.

The 39 with funds weren’t safe either. While they could refuel, the passengers’ demands loomed over them. These eerie travelers wouldn’t ask for normal favors.

It was a lose-lose: trapped like meat on a chopping block, their fates hinged on whims.

Every move had to be calculated. One misstep meant oblivion.

Except for Mitarai Saburō.

Cool as ice, he smirked—as if he’d predicted this.

Unlike Zhang Yangqing (Dragon Country), who claimed “fear stems from insufficient firepower,” Mitarai lacked godlike strength. But among contestants, his combat skills ranked top-tier. At 32, his disciplined training gave him an edge.

More crucially, his analysis speed was unmatched.

If this trial’s secrets were a 100-piece puzzle:

• Average contestants: 5% solved.
• Smarter ones: 10%.
• Mitarai: 30%.
• Zhang Yangqing: 51%.

Without Zhang, Mitarai would’ve been in a league of his own.

But reality placed him second, with the rest far behind.

Yet oddly, Mitarai’s viewer ratings surpassed Zhang’s.

Why?

Zhang’s choices so far mirrored the majority, making some doubt his insight. “Truth favors the minority,” they whispered.

But soon, Zhang would prove them wrong—because only he could afford such choices.

Meanwhile, in the Backseats…

Jones (Kangaroo Country), this round’s unlucky pick, was a homeless park dweller in real life. Wilderness survival? No issue.

But playing tour guide on a haunted bus? Terrifying.

As he agonized over begging for cash, a foul-smelling droplet splashed onto his neck.

He jerked upright—just as a hooded passenger leaned behind him, razor-sharp teeth bared.

The teeth jutted past shriveled lips, like serrated blades ready to decapitate him.

Jones barely reacted in time.

Rule 11 warned: Never expose your neck to passengers.

He’d assumed it meant “don’t approach them.”

Wrong.

They could move too.

The hooded figure retreated upon being noticed, masking its face again.

Jones exhaled. So they can only attack if unnoticed.

From then on, he stood gripping a handrail, refusing to sit vulnerably.

Ten less-alert contestants weren’t so lucky. Distracted by money woes, they died mid-thought, screens cutting to black.

A few “turtled up” in time—tucking their necks saved them.

Mitarai? Flawless.

He’d flipped his collar up, angled the rearview mirror, and monitored every movement since boarding.

Japan’s viewers erupted:

“A detective’s genius! Even better than Eagle Country’s muscle-bound PhD!”

Experts agreed: An SS-rank performance.

…

Whenever danger struck, audiences instantly switched to Dragon Country’s feed, eager for Zhang Yangqing’s next move.

Japan’s fans secretly hoped he’d fail here.

They were disappointed.

While others only noticed the hooded passenger when teeth neared their necks, Zhang detected the intruder the instant he sat behind him.

The passenger froze, baffled. How?

Answer? A thunderous slap.

CRACK!

The force shattered teeth and near-dislocated the passenger’s jaw.

Before he could protest, Zhang’s voice boomed:

“Did I give you permission? Get back!”

Other contestants were sheep trapped with wolves, their lives forfeit to the passengers’ whims.

But Zhang?

Since you boarded my bus, you’re the ones not in control.

Dragon Country’s audience roared.

The Zhang Show had begun.