I’m a Max-Level Taoist Master, and You’re Throwing Me Into a Rules-Based Horror Game?! - Chapter 57

Chapter 57: A Mysterious Informant Appears!

Upon hearing Zhang Yangqing’s audacious words, one would normally expect two reactions from the audience in Dragon Country.

The first would be concern.

After all, the difficulty of the Strange Tales world keeps increasing, and this particular scenario even includes so-called “instant-death” items.

No one wants to see Zhang Yangqing get himself killed because of some reckless move.

Not everyone can guess what he’s thinking, after all.

Many of his actions defy ordinary logic.

The second reaction would come from those just here for the spectacle.

These viewers simply believe Zhang Yangqing is overwhelmingly powerful—strong enough to bulldoze through the Strange Tales world.

No matter what he does, it falls within the realm of plausibility.

They watch him purely for entertainment, knowing they likely won’t learn much from him.

But this time, neither reaction seemed to surface. Instead, everyone wore expressions of confusion.

Because here, Zhang Yangqing had exploited a major loophole.

When choosing to disembark at Smiling Hospital, most other Chosen Ones had refueled extensively.

Refueling was necessary to meet the disembarkation conditions and avoid being attacked by passengers.

As a result, 112 Chosen Ones got off here, and for most of them, the world outside was shrouded in gloom and darkness.

They had to rely on dim lights to navigate.

Coupled with the thick fog, visibility was extremely poor—distant scenery was practically invisible.

Shadowy figures lurked in the mist, their glowing eyes just barely discernible.

Yet the sound of barking dogs rang out clearly in the Chosen Ones’ ears.

To avoid violating Rule 8, most dared not move, terrified of provoking an attack from the shadowy figures outside.

But Zhang Yangqing’s exploit was downright absurd.

Before arriving, he hadn’t refueled much—because he wasn’t afraid of passenger attacks in the first place.

So, while the sky had darkened slightly, his visibility outside was still far better than the others’.

What he saw was much clearer.

The audience in Dragon Country could also make out three figures in the mist.

These were the sources of the barking—yet they stood upright, their silhouettes unmistakably human.

Even more peculiar, they were all dressed in white patient gowns.

Zhang Yangqing clearly remembered Rule 10:

• Gray gowns indicate psychiatric patients. Ignore anything they say.

• White gowns indicate ordinary patients. Try to accommodate their requests.

If the rules specified this, it meant the white-gowned patients must know something.

Critical clues could likely be obtained from them.

This was how rules were meant to be interpreted.

It wasn’t just Zhang Yangqing—many Chosen Ones had already guessed this.

But the key was to accommodate their requests.

During his tour of the hospital, Zhang Yangqing had encountered several white-gowned patients.

Yet none had paid him any attention, muttering to themselves instead.

They ignored his greetings entirely.

As for the gray-gowned psychiatric patients, their words couldn’t be trusted anyway, so Zhang Yangqing didn’t waste time on them.

But now, these three white-gowned patients were barking at him like dogs.

Most people would be baffled, but Zhang Yangqing sensed they were trying to communicate—perhaps even asking for help.

The problem was, he didn’t speak dog.

So he rolled down the window and shouted, “What the hell are you barking at?”

As for the supposed “danger” of hearing dogs bark?

Zhang Yangqing was curious to see what that danger even was.

Others might fear it—he didn’t.

Besides, aside from his assistant, he had 37 passengers with him.

Their group looked imposing, almost like a small mob. The eerie atmosphere was practically nonexistent.

But for the other Chosen Ones, another crisis had erupted.

At this moment, Mitarai saburō’s heart was pounding wildly.

Outside, the world was already dark. He had brought few people with him.

His mask had changed color—if he didn’t replace it soon, he could feel his abnormalities worsening rapidly.

The T-shaped corridor stretched endlessly, cold and deserted.

To the left was the nurse’s station; to the right, the unknown.

Walking through it gave him a suffocating feeling, as if unseen eyes were tracking his every move.

Yet whenever he glanced around, nothing seemed out of place.

Amid this oppressive atmosphere, the sound of barking dogs only amplified the dread.

It was as if every horror had converged here—one misstep, and it’d be game over.

As Mitarai saburō frantically wondered if he’d made a mistake—

Click.

The corridor lights suddenly shut off.

At that moment, even the famed detective Mitarai saburō felt his heart leap into his throat.

“I didn’t do anything wrong! Why is this happening?!”

But before he could dwell on it, the barking stopped.

A few seconds later, another click echoed.

The lights flickered back on.

Then, faint footsteps approached.

Many of the more timid Chosen Ones, seeing the shadowy figures outside vanish, finally exhaled in relief.

Some even realized their pants were now damp.

Mitarai saburō also relaxed slightly—he knew the “danger” of the barking had passed.

This place was too eerie. He hurried toward the nurse’s station to change his mask.

But first, he needed to investigate the source of the footsteps.

The two clicks had to be someone flipping the light switch—meaning that person had intervened on his behalf.

Perhaps they knew the hospital’s secrets.

With that thought, Mitarai saburō broke into a sprint.

Admittedly, his reasoning was sound. Many top-tier Chosen Ones outside had reached the same conclusion.

But he was too late.

By the time he reached the switch, the figure was already gone.

From his perspective, Mitarai saburō assumed this person was friendly—why else would they help him?

As a detective, he had plenty of methods to track someone down.

But his tools hadn’t carried over into this world, and time was running short.

It wasn’t worth wasting here.

The nurse’s station lay in the other direction, so Mitarai saburō headed straight there to swap his mask.

This nurse was different from the one at the entrance.

Her figure was curvaceous, her face delicate and pretty.

Even with a blue mask covering half her features, she exuded an air of beauty.

As Mitarai saburō chatted with her, he subtly shifted positions, his gaze drifting downward—as if trying to catch a glimpse of her legs.

This sent the audience in Sakura Country into a panic.

[Chat:]

• “Is Mitarai saburō a leg man?! How can he be checking her out at a time like this?!”

• “No way… The last Chosen One died because he got distracted by a pretty face! Is Mitarai saburō really making the same mistake? If you want to look at legs, I’ll get my wife to wear stockings for you after you get out!”

• “Someone call the expert panel! Warn him to focus—this isn’t the time for this!”

The Sakura Country experts, bombarded with frantic tags, could only sigh.

One finally explained:
“Everyone, calm down. Mitarai saburō isn’t looking at her legs—he’s checking her shoes. He’s trying to figure out if she was the one who turned the lights off earlier.”

Just as the audience began to understand, they noticed something in the nurse’s hand on the big screen.

They recognized it immediately—it was the cleaning agent the bloated nurse had given to Dragon Country’s Chosen One.