I’m a Max-Level Taoist Master, and You’re Throwing Me Into a Rules-Based Horror Game?! - Chapter 52
Chapter 52: “If I’m Not Mistaken, This Is Just the Beginning!”
“Hello, I’m the tour guide for this sightseeing group.”
If not for the crowd of citizens behind him, Jones would’ve turned and fled the moment he faced this terrifying figure alone.
This guy definitely doesn’t seem friendly!
The gloomy weather was punctuated by occasional cold gusts. A peculiar odor hung in the air, making breathing feel labored—not just for Jones, but for the citizens too.
The hospital director, ever considerate, had prepared masks—exactly enough for everyone present.
Once masked, the strange smell became far less oppressive.
“This way, please. It’s been so long since we’ve had visitors,” the director said, leading the group.
Jones noted details: The director isn’t wearing a mask. He seems unaffected by the toxic air.
On the ground were faint drag marks, both fresh and old—narrow, as if from hauling firewood or branches. Scattered nearby were fabric scraps and unidentifiable fluids.
No trees grew here; only jagged rocks broke the barren landscape.
These were the clues Jones could gather.
Soon, the group arrived at a cluster of towering buildings—Smiling Hospital.
The entrance bore a grinning logo painted in what looked like red dye. Years of neglect had caused the “smile” to drip downward, its peeling pigment sending chills down spines.
The hospital itself was decrepit. Dark reddish stains clung to walls, and shadowy figures flickered behind sealed windows.
Jones kept feeling unseen eyes on him—yet whenever he turned, nothing was there.
Am I imagining things?
A statue stood at the hospital’s entrance: a weeping woman cradling a laughing infant, meant to celebrate new life. The dissonance screamed one message:
RUN.
Even viewers watching the screens shuddered. This place reeked of death.
[Live Comments]
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“Hang in there, Jones! We believe in you!”
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“No house? Survive this, and I’ll gift you a villa!”
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“Stay calm. Think: What would Longguo’s expert do? Copy that.”
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“But what if Longguo’s guy starts summoning lightning?”
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“…Then forget I said anything.”
Unaware of the cheers, Jones focused on observation. In the supernatural world, there was no turning back. Fear wasted time; survival demanded vigilance.
After instructing the citizens to stay silent, Jones followed the director inside.
The moment they entered, a cocktail of medicinal and rancid smells assaulted them—even through the masks. Without masks, it’d be unbearable.
The corridors were dim, sporadically patrolled by nurses. Unlatched doors creaked, as if beckoning visitors.
For less resilient participants, the atmosphere felt like a guillotine waiting to drop—the pale-clad staff its executioners.
At the registration desk, Jones spotted rules pinned to the wall:
[Hospital Tour Guidelines]
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Always wear your mask. If its color changes, replace it immediately at the nurse’s station.
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Only trust nurses with blue masks. If they ask about abnormalities on your body, answer truthfully.
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Hunger can only be relieved in the cafeteria (opens at 5 PM). No outside removal of food. Limited stock.
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Avoid strange surgical tables in hallways. Notify cleaners to clear them before passing.
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Deadly hazards exist. Do not touch unknown objects.
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Patients are volatile. Never disturb them while they sleep.
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Hide from patrolling guards. Being caught means forced “treatment.”
Jones swallowed hard. These rules confirmed his suspicion:
The real trial starts here.
The earlier bus journey? Just a tutorial.
*Did anyone really think a 2.5-star trial would be easy?*
“If this is the true destination,” he reasoned, “then other stops must be death traps. At least here, we have food clues.”
Meanwhile, Mitarai Saburō, was already dissecting the rules:
“Post-6 PM, this place will transform. But if we secure food at 5 PM and trigger specific conditions—like the bridge reappearing—we can escape. Before then, we need a safe zone. Still, these seven rules can’t be everything. More intel is crucial.”
Rule 5 especially alarmed him: instant-death traps. Maybe poison, maybe cursed objects—either way, caution was key.
He was grateful for his small group. Fewer variables.
[Cherry Blossom Country Audience Reactions]
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“Saburō-sama’s already cracked the code! Who needs more rules?”
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“LOL, other participants look so lost!”
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*”Small groups have the advantage. Longguo’s 40+ people? Disaster waiting to happen.”*
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“Even their ‘transcendent’ can’t brute-force instant-death mechanics. Watch him fail!”
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“Brutes only clear low-level trials. This is Saburō’s stage!”
At registration, a bloated nurse in a blue mask greeted them. Thick makeup cracked over her swollen features, dusting her uniform with powdery flakes. Yet she wore a grotesquely “bright” smile—as did every staff member here.
Then she asked:
“Do I look pretty when I smile?”
Jones’s heart nearly stopped. Summoning every compliment he knew, he stammered:
“Y-Your smile is radiant! Like winter sunshine! Like… warm milk! Or… carnations!”
Saburō smoothly added:
“Truly the most captivating smile I’ve seen. I’d love to chat more—your words are a gift.”
(Translation: Flattery + fishing for intel. Classic detective move.)
Every participant resorted to desperate praise—until Zhang Yangqing was asked.
Nurse: “Do I look pretty when I smile?”
Zhang Yangqing, after a scrutinizing pause:
“You look… hilarious.”
Silence.
Then:
“…BRO, YOU JUST STARTED THE LEVEL!”
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