I’m a Max-Level Taoist Master, and You’re Throwing Me Into a Rules-Based Horror Game?! - Chapter 55

Chapter 55: Please Believe Us—This Hospital Is Real!

“This is our operating room. The patients are very cooperative—see how happy they look.”

The director led the way with light, soundless steps, introducing the hospital as they walked.

He wore a constant smile, as if nothing could ever wipe it off his face.

They were in the surgical building, and the group was now touring the operating room.

A surgery was underway inside, and Zhang Yangqing and the others could observe through the glass window.

The patient appeared to be tightly bound to the operating table, his expression twisted in agony, eyes bulging as if about to pop out.

Several doctors pinned him down firmly while the lead surgeon approached with a scalpel.

Despite this, the patient continued to struggle.

There was no sign of cooperation whatsoever.

Strangest of all, the operating room seemed to have motion-activated lights.

If no noise was made, the lights would turn off.

An energy-saving feature, apparently.

As if they weren’t worried about accidentally killing the patient in the dark.

Watching this, Zhang Yangqing began to understand what “cooperation” meant here.

If the patient didn’t scream, the motion-activated lights wouldn’t turn on, and the surgery couldn’t proceed.

Was this what the director meant by “cooperation”?

It sounded absurd, but in a twisted way, it made sense.

So Zhang Yangqing didn’t argue. He even ignored the patient’s pleading gaze.

After a few swift cuts from the surgeon, the patient stopped struggling, his contorted face twisting into a grotesque smile.

Once the patient fell silent, the lights shut off, plunging the operating room into darkness.

Just before the lights went out, the surgeon’s face was visible—grinning widely, as if he’d accomplished something remarkable.

As blood splattered, Zhang Yangqing noticed that the citizens watching weren’t frightened. Instead, they were swallowing hard, their expressions not of horror but of hunger.

They didn’t look at the patient as one of their own—more like prey.

“I can see your hospital’s medical standards are exceptional, and the patients are quite cooperative.”

“Of course. Our hospital is staffed by elite graduates from top institutions. If you’d like, I can arrange a free surgical experience for you.”

“Thank you, but I’m not sick at the moment.”

Zhang Yangqing then turned to the “tour group” behind him. “Anyone here interested in trying it out?”

The thirty-plus tourists stared in shock. Are you serious? This isn’t some game—you can’t just ‘play’ in there!
You’re not sick, and neither are we!

Every one of them politely declined.

The director sighed. “What a shame.”

Zhang Yangqing continued exchanging pleasantries with him, careful not to provoke him—for now, the director still served a purpose.

The eerie atmosphere and bizarre dialogue sent chills down the spines of those watching the live broadcast.

[Comments:]

• Holy crap, a “surgical experience”? Who in their right mind would try that?

• Saving energy is one thing, but this is ridiculous. What were the hospital administrators thinking?

• This place is terrifying. I wouldn’t last a minute here.

• I’ve been a doctor for decades, and this is the first time I’ve seen surgery performed without anesthesia.

• Something’s off. The surgeon’s movements seem strange, but I can’t pinpoint why.

• Well, the patient is cooperative—not a single scream. Impressive.

• Oh please, even if he screamed, we wouldn’t hear it through the glass.

• Gotta admire Zhang Tian Shi’s nerves of steel. He doesn’t even flinch.

• True. Other contestants are avoiding danger, but he’s just sightseeing like it’s a vacation. Isn’t he worried?

• Why would he be? When you’re as strong as him, you’re the one others should fear.

While viewers debated, the experts in the Dragon Nation were puzzled.

Why was Zhang Yangqing wasting time here? Other contestants had already gathered plenty of intel.

Even with his strength, he still needed to figure out how to clear the stage.

In the last round, Zhang Yangqing had collected the most information.

This time, he seemed to be slacking.

Was there some hidden benefit to touring the hospital?

Even Hu Liuqi, a previous clear, was confused.

This stage’s time limit was tight—contestants only had two hours of free movement.

Zhang Yangqing had already spent over ten minutes here without gaining anything useful.

If this continued, the eerie director might just drag him to his doom.

But Hu Liuqi noticed something: Zhang Yangqing could access areas other contestants couldn’t.

Not because of any special ability—the director simply had high clearance.

“Is he trying to trick the director into taking him somewhere?”

Hu Liuqi considered this but wasn’t sure.

After all, Zhang Tian Shi was a transcendent being—ordinary logic didn’t apply.

So the experts overcomplicated things, some even theorizing that he was setting up a grand scheme.

In reality, they were overthinking it. Zhang Yangqing was simply testing the waters.

By having the director lead the way, he wanted to gauge the friendliness of the “director” role toward “outsiders.”

The director and doctors weren’t wearing masks, confirming they were part of the same faction.

His attitude reflected how other staff might treat outsiders.

Along the way, Zhang Yangqing noticed the doctors showed no interest in his group—only in patients.

Even standing beside them, the doctors ignored him entirely.

Next was the director’s behavior. Though the places he showed them seemed dangerous, no incidents occurred.

From this, Zhang Yangqing deduced: The doctors were likely neutral.

Neutral factions could become hostile or friendly under certain conditions.

Once he confirmed the roles of patients and nurses, clearing the stage would be straightforward.

Knowing their alignments would allow him to judge the accuracy of their statements directly—far easier than verifying clues piece by piece.

After the tour, Zhang Yangqing bid farewell to the ever-smiling director and headed to the nurse’s station.

The director’s departure gave the unsettling impression that he wouldn’t return.

At the nurse’s station, Zhang Yangqing spotted several rules written on the wall:

[Rule 8: This hospital does not keep dogs. If you hear barking, remain silent—or you will be in danger.]

[Rule 9: Do not stay in a patient’s room for more than 3 minutes, or you may contract an illness.]

[Rule 10: Patients in gray uniforms are mentally ill. Ignore what they say. Patients in white uniforms are ordinary—fulfill their requests when possible.]

[Rule 11: If you experience coughing blood, fractures, stomach pain, or burns during your visit, seek treatment at the corresponding clinic immediately. Neglecting this will have consequences.]

[Rule 12: Note: Show doctors utmost respect. Only doctors may treat patients. If someone claiming to treat you is not a doctor—RUN.]

[Rule 13: The director’s office is on the 18th floor of the General Building. Only the elevator can take you there. If visiting, bring fruit the director likes.]

[Rule 14: If someone tells you this hospital does not exist—please believe us. This hospital is REAL.]

Reading these, many contestants gulped, their spines tingling with dread.

Especially the last rule—it felt deeply unsettling.

Was it hinting at something?