I’m a Max-Level Taoist Master, and You’re Throwing Me Into a Rules-Based Horror Game?! - Chapter 89

Chapter 89: Ants, How Dare You Bark Before Me!

It’s unclear whether Zhang Yangqing was nervous, but Old Smokey was absolutely terrified—on the verge of tears, in fact.

Please, brother, just run! Otherwise, we’re both dead.

Old Smokey had survived this long because he was still useful to the landlord.

In other words, he hadn’t broken any of the house’s rules.

He was also a kind man, doing his best to teach new tenants how to stay alive.

It was his way of finding solace in this “lightless” existence.

From behind the peephole, he had witnessed too many deaths.

Only because he saw that the chosen one had no one behind him did he dare open the door.

Now, with this chosen one refusing to leave, he regretted his decision.

This is going to get me killed. Being a good person is just too hard.

At that moment, the door swung open, and a group of strangely dressed individuals filed in.

Their outfits were bizarre, far from normal—each adorned with some sort of animal feature.

One had a tiger’s tail, another wore bear-like shoes.

This seemed to be the landlord’s signature style, leaving much to ponder.

Other chosen ones had already fled the scene—only Zhang Yangqing remained, calmly observing.

“Landlord, this—”

Old Smokey tried to explain, but a single glare from the landlord silenced him.

It was clear that while Old Smokey had some skills, facing such a formidable landlord left him too cowed to resist.

Like livestock raised in captivity, he had long lost his wild instincts.

The landlord of this unit was a middle-aged man draped in a leopard-skin coat.

His body was covered in terrifying tattoos, exuding a savage aura.

The newcomers, like the landlord, licked their lips at the sight of Zhang Yangqing, their eyes gleaming with a strange green light.

As if staring at a delicious meal.

The landlord here seemed to have his own rules.

Outside or elsewhere, as long as the rules weren’t broken, tenants were considered others’ prey—not to be touched.

But now that someone had trespassed into his territory, the leopard-skinned savage saw no reason to hold back.

A terrifying atmosphere filled the room. Zhang Yangqing seemed to have stumbled into a den of man-eating beasts.

Yet, at this critical moment, the live broadcast in Dragon Country showed no signs of tension.

[Comments Section]

• I counted—thirteen of them. Not enough to make Zhang Tian-shi even stand up.

• Damn, is Zhang Tian-shi teaching us the meaning of “standing firm at thirty”?

• You guys still have time to joke? What if the fight destroys the apartment? Wouldn’t that violate the rules?

• Relax, this isn’t Zhang Tian-shi’s own unit. Even if it gets wrecked, it shouldn’t count.

• Exactly. As long as he doesn’t demolish the whole building, it’s probably fine.

• But why does he only stand up if there are thirty or more? Is thirty his limit in this challenge?

• Think bigger. My guess is that with fewer than thirty, none can escape, so he doesn’t need to stand. Thirty or more might scatter, making it harder to catch them all.

Among the countless Chinese viewers, not a single one seemed worried for Zhang Yangqing.

To question whether Zhang Tian-shi could handle these savages would be an insult to his prowess!

At this point, with him acting so boldly, trying to advise him was pointless.

After all, Zhang Tian-shi knew his own limits!

While the audience debated, the atmosphere inside the challenge grew increasingly tense.

All thirteen bizarrely dressed figures had now crowded into the room, making the once-spacious area feel cramped.

Some carried black sacks, as if preparing for a feast.

This might have been their usual gathering spot.

The last one to enter let out a sinister chuckle before locking the door—as if ensuring their prey couldn’t escape.

Zhang Yangqing, however, silently approved. Good. Saves me the trouble.

Unaware of the danger they were in, the savages began dividing their spoils.

“The leg meat looks tender. I’ll take that.”
“I prefer organs. Leave the rest.”
“How about hotpot? There’s still broth in the kitchen.”
“You’re all so crude. Sliced meat would be better—fair for everyone.”

They spoke as if Zhang Yangqing were nothing more than premium-grade ingredients.

Then, an icy voice cut through their chatter.

“Enough. Stop wasting time with your nonsense. Come at me—I’m in a hurry.”

Zhang Yangqing’s words instantly enraged the entire group.

How dare this piece of meat talk back to us?!

Somehow, without even cursing, he always knew how to provoke these creatures into fury.

The leopard-skinned savage’s face twisted grotesquely, as if his very skin could no longer contain his feral soul.

His eyes burned with bestial fury, his fangs bared in a horrifying snarl.

His skin hardened, taking on an almost impenetrable texture.

Crouching slightly, his posture became that of a predator about to strike.

A guttural, inhuman growl erupted from his throat, sending nearby tenants cowering in fear.

In an instant, an overwhelming pressure filled the room—like a pack of bloodthirsty monstrosities.

Their combined aura loomed like towering, hundred-meter beasts, dwarfing Zhang Yangqing into insignificance.

For the first time, some Chinese viewers stopped laughing, their fists clenched in suspense.

“Ants, how dare you bark before me!”

With a single hand seal, Zhang Yangqing’s pupils erupted with golden light.

What followed was a sight the world would never forget.

Seated calmly, exuding divine serenity, Zhang Yangqing radiated with celestial brilliance.

Mystical lights swirled around him, as if the very laws of the universe bowed to his will.

Flowers of pure energy bloomed in the air; golden lotuses emerged from the ground.

Behind him, a radiant halo expanded—like an immortal sovereign gazing down from the heavens.

The pack of beasts had no time to react, let alone feel fear.

With a disdainful snort, Zhang Yangqing unleashed a force so pure it tore through reality itself.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Every last one of the savage creatures exploded.

Not a single one could resist.

Their bodies ruptured into nothingness—bones powdered, flesh and blood reduced to paste.

The walls were splattered in a grotesque mural of red and black.

Not a single patch of white remained.

The shockwave shattered every window, golden light erupting outward like a supernova.

The entire building trembled. None inside knew what had happened—only that an unfathomable power had erupted from Room 8-4.

Surveying the now-empty room, Zhang Yangqing retracted his hand.

Glancing at Old Smokey—whose eyes were bulging in disbelief—he smirked.

“See? I told you—under thirty, I don’t even need to stand.”