I’m a Max-Level Taoist Master, and You’re Throwing Me Into a Rules-Based Horror Game?! - Chapter 56

Chapter 56: The Hospital’s Survival Rules—A Sudden Sound!

When Mitarai Saburō saw the remaining rules, he didn’t panic like the other chosen ones.

With a detective’s mindset, he knew that unverifiable information only needed to be remembered and verified later.

For example, Rule 14 was hard to decipher. Even Mitarai couldn’t grasp its meaning.

But since it existed, it had to be significant. He just needed to keep it in mind.

“I was right—the general building is relatively safe. The safe room must be the director’s office. But to enter or gain his protection, we need to find out what fruit he likes.”

Mitarai analyzed carefully.

The director’s office was undoubtedly the safe room because the director held the highest authority in Smiling Hospital.

No doctor, nurse, patient, or guard would dare challenge him.

Figuring out the director’s favorite fruit was a key point in this strange world.

To do that, they needed to find someone who had interacted with the director—that was the objective.

Ever since arriving near the hospital, Mitarai had sensed the so-called “toxic gas” in the air.

It seemed denser outside than inside, and the wards were even more contaminated.

By combining Rules 9, 11, and 12, Mitarai deduced a crucial guideline for survival in the hospital:

If the toxic gas was considered a debuff, then:

• Every breath taken by a chosen one stacked one layer of the debuff.

• Once the stacks reached a certain threshold, Rule 11’s “injured” status would trigger, causing physical deterioration.

• Without timely treatment, further stacking could lead to an instant-death effect—or, alternatively, becoming a patient.

Mitarai had two interpretations of the instant-death effect:

1. Actual death.

2. Transformation into a patient (with a slim chance of recovery).

No sane person would willingly test which one it was.

Masks slowed the debuff’s stacking speed, but if contaminated, they needed immediate replacement.

Entering a patient’s room accelerated the debuff—three minutes inside would max out the stacks.

Most importantly: Never disturb a sleeping patient, or it might attract something unnatural.

If abnormalities appeared, a doctor’s help was necessary to remove the debuff.

But there was a catch: Make sure the doctor is real.

And—show them proper respect.

Mitarai interpreted this as: Do not violate the doctor’s taboos.

Doctors could either save you or kill you, making them an unpredictable factor.

This was Mitarai’s analysis based on the current information.

Even experts from various nations marveled at his keen judgment.

While many chosen ones were still panicking (“What do I do?” “Is this the right interpretation?” “How do I memorize all these rules?”), Mitarai had already mapped out a survival strategy.

The strange world provided phones to help chosen ones record rules and take photos—but those who failed to utilize them were on their own.

Seeing Mitarai crack the rules so quickly, Sakura’s audience erupted in excitement:

• “Wait, I haven’t even memorized the rules yet, and he’s already solved them?”

• “He’s basically handing out answers! If other chosen ones survive, they owe us one!”

• “Hahaha! Meanwhile, Dragon Country’s chosen one is just sightseeing—no way he’s clearing this mental challenge.”

• *”Is that guy just waiting for lunch? Does he think a 2.5-star difficulty is a joke?”*

Sakura’s people were practically crowning Mitarai as the king of the strange world, sparking backlash in international chats.

“Your guy’s good, but don’t act like everyone else is stupid!”

Many chosen ones had figured things out—just not as fast.

Take Jones from Kangaroo Country, for example.

He’d adapted quickly to the strange world, meticulously noting every detail.

While heading to the next building, he encountered a doctor in a white coat—no mask, wearing the same smile as the receptionist.

“Excuse me, Doctor—”

Before he could finish, the doctor walked past, ignoring him completely.

“Fine, whatever,” Jones muttered under his breath.

Unlike Zhang Yangqing’s experience, Jones noticed something else:

The toxic gas didn’t seem to affect the civilians much.

Perhaps they were used to it—after all, they came from the fog. What kind of world did they live in?

Jones arrived at the general building, searching for clues about the director’s favorite fruit.

Though he had a team, he avoided splitting up—safety in numbers.

While consulting staff, his assistant suddenly spoke up:

“Guide, your mask is changing color.”

Jones calmly checked his phone’s stopwatch: 16 minutes and 30 seconds.

Current time: 3:18 PM.

“So masks last about 12 minutes before needing replacement,” he concluded.

Kangaroo Country’s viewers were stunned:

• “Damn, I thought we were doomed with him, but he’s actually sharp!”

• “Dude, keep it up! Try thinking like Dragon Country’s transcendent—follow his logic!”

• “But international chats say that guy just brute-forces his way through. How’s that helpful?”

• “If you’ve been inside, you’d know—you have to play to your strengths. Dragon Country’s guy simplifies the process because he CAN. His choices are never wrong.”

As Jones and others approached the nurse’s station to change masks, a chilling sound froze them in place:

“Bark! Bark! Bark!”

The noise came from outside. Through the windows, shadowy figures lurked, their glowing eyes piercing the gloom.

A gust of wind rattled the old windows.

Even from a distance, the oppressive aura made the chosen ones’ hair stand on end.

Jones didn’t dare move.

Rule 8 was clear:

“The hospital has no dogs. If you hear barking, stay silent—or you’ll be in danger.”

Most chosen ones stood still, playing a deadly game of “red light, green light.”

Even Mitarai held his breath.

The only sound was the creaking windows.

The barks felt like an omen—something terrifying was coming.

Legends say dogs bark when they see things humans can’t.

Viewers held their breaths, half-expecting something to crawl out of their screens.

Meanwhile, Zhang Yangqing opened the window and yelled:

“What the hell are you barking at?!”