I’m a Max-Level Taoist Master, and You’re Throwing Me Into a Rules-Based Horror Game?! - Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Sorry Not Sorry—Absolute Power Means Absolute Freedom!

The wax figure’s bizarre behavior left even John, the tactically brilliant Chosen One from Eagle Nation, utterly perplexed.

The figure remained silent—but its next movements hinted at a desperate plea.

With one hand pointing toward the exit, it repeatedly kowtowed toward John.

The message was clear: It wanted out.

Its body language radiated vulnerability—weak, helpless, even fearful—as if it were just another trapped soul like the Chosen Ones themselves.

Many felt a pang of sympathy. After all, weren’t they also prisoners here?

But John recalled Rule 1:
“The Wax Museum closes at midnight. No entry or exit permitted—ignore ALL requests from inside or outside the doors!”

So this is what it meant.

Rule 2 had claimed “You’re the only one inside,” yet here was “someone” begging to leave.

John ignored it. Eventually, after enough kowtows, the figure shuffled back to its pedestal.

Here, he noticed a subtle detail others missed:

Even mobile wax figures couldn’t stray far or linger.

The eerie figure he’d encountered earlier in the lobby hadn’t pursued him. Upon closer re-inspection, it remained inert.

John theorized:

• Maybe they only activate when Chosen Ones enter a certain radius?
• Or perhaps breaking a rule (like meeting their gaze) grants them mobility?

The exact trigger remained unclear—but this insight could prove vital for surviving the exhibition hall.

…

Meanwhile, Other Chosen Ones Employed… Creative Solutions

Some kowtowed back aggressively, out-bowing the figure until it retreated in confusion.

(Pro life tip: When someone bows for a favor, bow harder to dodge the request.)

Others simply detoured around the pleading figure.

Then viewers switched to Dragon Country’s stream—and collectively choked.

Zhang Yangqing, true to form, chose Option C: Violence.

Without hesitation, he crushed the kowtowing figure underfoot and strode forward, scanning the surrounding waxworks with a glare that seemed to say:

“Go ahead. Try me.”

The sheer audacity inverted the room’s terror—now the wax figures felt threatened.

Live Reactions:

• “Bro turned a horror game into ‘Whack-a-Mole’!”
• “Diagnosis: Terminal badassery.”
• “Apologies—when you’re this OP, rules are optional.”
• “At this point, I’m convinced I could clear this dungeon too.”
• “Damn, that wax figure looked so pitiful… Couldn’t he just walk around?!”
• “Spare me the moralizing. In an apocalypse, ‘sympathy’ gets you killed first.”

The research team was divided:

• Conservatives argued against unnecessary risks. Rules existed for survival.
• Radicals championed Zhang’s approach. In a kill-or-be-killed world, mercy was a luxury few could afford.

Even Hu Liuqi admitted it seemed reckless—what if it had been an innocent figure? One misstep meant instant game over.

But Zhang operated on another level.

Rule 4 stated: “Wax figures DO NOT move.”

Ergo: Anything that moves = fair game.

Others feared mobile figures; Zhang welcomed them—more targets to eliminate.

Yet he wasn’t reckless. Without absolute certainty, he wouldn’t strike.

…

The Exhibition Hall’s Four Zones

Most Chosen Ones scoured for maps and damaged wax figures across:

• Zone A: Crowded with low-quality figures.
• Zone B: Glass-encased, hyper-detailed horrors (think: grinning clowns, reapers).
• Zone C: Figures shrouded in white cloth—like a horror loot box. (Only Zhang dared unveil them, each reveal spiking viewers’ heart rates.)
• Zone D: The junkyard. Mutilated figures missing limbs, eyes, or even halves lay scattered. Repairs here were a 3D puzzle from hell—with no guarantee of success.

As Chosen Ones began piecing fragments together—

A tiny hand tugged at their pants.

A child’s voice whispered:

“Mister… wanna play?”

Every hair stood on end.

Rule 2 echoed in their minds:
“You’re the ONLY one here.”