I’m a Max-Level Taoist Master, and You’re Throwing Me Into a Rules-Based Horror Game?! - Chapter 49

Chapter 49: Don’t Worry About How I’ll Manage—Just Tell Me Your Requirements First!

At the toll station checkpoint, Zhang Yangqing and Mitarai Saburō’s approaches couldn’t have been more different.

Their methods were polar opposites.

When the red-uniformed toll station worker knocked on the bus door, Mitarai Saburō opened it.

The red-uniformed worker didn’t harm the challenger. Instead, he pulled out a syringe and stated his demand:

For every one passenger classified as a citizen on the bus, the challenger must provide 50 milliliters of blood to pass the toll station. The blood cannot be taken from the citizens themselves.

This was the toll station’s rule—clearly different from the gas station’s.

Mitarai Saburō thought for a moment.

On the bus, the only non-citizens were himself and the driver. His assistant also counted as a citizen.

He couldn’t very well take the driver’s blood, so he had no choice but to use his own.

With nine citizens on board, he’d need 450 milliliters of blood.

Normally, 400 milliliters is the maximum safe amount for a blood donation—anything more could cause physical harm.

Then, a sudden realization struck him.

While waiting, he’d noticed citizens being dragged out of other vehicles.

So… if I donate 50 milliliters less, I can make one citizen get off the bus?
Was the hidden rule here hinting at this?

Mitarai Saburō’s priority was minimizing risk, so his choices had always been cautious.

Detectives aren’t paid to be reckless—staying alive is the real challenge.

So he decided to remove the most dangerous passengers from the bus.

This was a classic case of “killing with a borrowed knife”—reducing threats without getting his hands dirty.

The bus only needed some of the passengers to return. Losing one or two wouldn’t matter.

In his mind, fewer passengers = lower difficulty.

With fewer mouths to feed, they’d consume less food, finish faster, and leave sooner.

A faint smirk crossed his lips as he figured out how to exploit a loophole.

It was a ruthless strategy—but survival demanded it.

He asked the red-uniformed worker to wait and approached the muscular passenger in the tank top.

Mitarai Saburō asked him for a tip, then pressed for his request.

The tank-top passenger handed him 1,000 yuan and said:

“I want to go to a special location. I only eat premium ingredients.”*

This meant deviating from the normal route—a dangerous choice, as hinted in Rule 10.

But now that he had the money… why take the risk?

If the *400-yuan passenger* was already tough, this *1,000-yuan* one must be lethal.*

He remembered this guy had only offered 500 yuan when boarding—but he hadn’t dared to accept it then.

Mitarai Saburō wasn’t here for rewards—just survival.

Completing extra tasks might bring better rewards, but was it worth the danger?

So, after taking the money, he sold out both the tank-top passenger and the hooded passenger (who looked extremely aggressive).

He only donated 350 milliliters of blood, letting the toll station workers drag those two away.

The two cursed him as “despicable” and “shameless,” but Mitarai Saburō didn’t care.

This is the Strange Tales World—since when did morals matter here?

Earning 1,000 yuan without lifting a finger? Pure genius.

If this decision were graded, he’d give himself 101 out of 100.

That extra point? Just to keep himself humble.

He even thought:

“If that dragon-country supernatural were in my place, he’d probably kick out even more passengers. I’m being merciful here.”

(He had no idea who else was in the challenge—he just liked shifting blame to feel better.)

If Zhang Yangqing heard this, he’d probably sigh:

“If you’re gonna do something shady, at least own it. Don’t drag me into it.”

“Sure, I’ve done some ruthless things—but I never blamed others for them.”

This time, Zhang Yangqing’s approach was completely different.

After several citizens were killed, a bloodstained red-uniformed worker and four white-uniformed workers appeared.

Once Zhang Yangqing stepped off the bus to intervene, the white-uniformed workers stopped the massacre.

The terrified survivors rushed to his bus, begging for refuge.

“Please, let us on!”
“At least take our children!”

Zhang Yangqing, playing the role of a tour guide, had to follow protocol.

“Do you have tickets? Only those with tickets can board.”

Rule 1 stated:

“Check passengers’ tickets upon boarding. Ensure no small animals are brought aboard—the driver is afraid of them.”

As long as they had tickets and no pets, they could board.

The 45-seat bus was barely a third full—there was plenty of space.

Hearing his offer, many burst into tears of gratitude.

After narrowly escaping death, who wouldn’t be thankful?

“We have tickets!”
“Thank you… you’re a good man.”*

Most passengers quickly presented their tickets—unsurprising, since only ticketed passengers would be traveling.

Even passengers from the three detained buses came pleading for help.

(Though many from those buses chose to wait and see—they knew the toll station’s rules. How could so many people possibly pass?)

Watching this, some of Zhang Yangqing’s viewers grew anxious.

“The Heavenly Master’s being too kind. This checkpoint isn’t about money—it’s about blood.”*
“Maybe he doesn’t know yet. Once the red-uniformed worker comes, he’ll have to send them away.”
“At least he bought them some extra time.”
“My bet? He’ll just destroy the toll station and force his way through.”
“If this were anyone else, I’d call that nonsense. But for him? Entirely possible.”
“Doubt it. If the toll station’s like the hidden entities (indestructible and self-repairing), and only they know how to open it, angering them could trap him here forever.”*

Zhang Yangqing, of course, wasn’t privy to these discussions.

“Do I look like someone who only knows brute force?”

Besides, he didn’t even know what they wanted yet.

“They haven’t even told me their demands.”

Zhang Yangqing wasn’t the type to act without information.

Strange Tales Worlds had clear conditions for clearing them—recklessness could backfire.

(Blow up the bus? Might fail the clear conditions.
He’d survive—but be stuck here indefinitely.)

As the white-uniformed workers moved to confront him, the red-uniformed worker raised a hand to stop them.

Since he was the highest authority (red > white), he had to state the rules first.

(As per the radio broadcast: Only red uniforms are true staff.)

He was curious—how did this guy plan to pass with so many people?

Zhang Yangqing’s expression seemed to say:

“Don’t worry about how I’ll manage—just tell me your requirements first!”