I’m a Max-Level Taoist Master, and You’re Throwing Me Into a Rules-Based Horror Game?! - Chapter 92

Chapter 92: This Cat Should Be Grateful It’s in the Rules!

The apartment was warm, but the chosen ones were already feverish.

So when the door opened, the rush of cold air sent shivers down their spines.

Miller noticed a detail—the repairman hadn’t been drenched by the rain, yet his shoes were wet.

Beside the doorway sat a folded umbrella.

That meant he probably didn’t live here.

This was a clue: [Special personnel] likely resided about [ten minutes away].

If it weren’t nighttime, if he weren’t feeling so awful, Miller might’ve tried tailing him.

Doing so could’ve uncovered valuable intel.

In the horror realm, the more you knew, the higher your chances of survival.

Sure, some intel might be useless—but even one correct piece could mean life or death.

Miller scrutinized the repairman as much as he could.

Meanwhile, some superhumans eyed the umbrella greedily.

If they stole it, they’d gain extra exploration time…

But here was the problem: Steal the umbrella, and next time, no one might come to fix your door.

A terrible trade-off.

Besides, the repairman was part of this world—meaning he could very well be a ghost or a ferocious spirit.

Acting recklessly might backfire spectacularly.

So they dismissed the idea.

This three-star difficulty horror realm had humbled even the most arrogant superhumans.

That rabbit-eared ghost from earlier? Lesson learned.

Now, everyone played by the rules—because one misstep meant death.

Acting carelessly? They wouldn’t survive the first night.

As the analysts predicted, most superhumans were struggling.

Normally, selected participants were either second-time survivors (with experience) or sharp-minded strategists.

It wasn’t that superhumans were weak—it’s just that this realm demanded meticulous attention to detail.

Miss one clue, and the entire puzzle collapsed.

Even in this so-called “high-stakes round,” some still overlooked critical hints.

Maybe the rain dulled their focus, or the complexity overwhelmed them.

Right now, only Dragon Nation’s superhuman seemed truly transcendent.

The others? Just slightly beyond human limits—advantaged, but not by much.

Some couldn’t even interpret the rules correctly, let alone break them.

Miller, though? He was performing flawlessly.

He’d done everything possible, leaving no stone unturned.

This time, he asked the repairman to check every door—including the master and secondary bedrooms.

Rule 8 warned that animals were clever—what if the black cat slipped in while he slept?

In his weakened state, he’d be utterly defenseless.

As the repairs proceeded, Miller probed for information.

Maybe the repairman knew something useful.

And sure enough, despite his throbbing headache, he extracted a vital clue.

Amid the repairman’s ramblings, one line stood out:

“The supermarket’s back door isn’t right.”

The repairman mentioned telling the owner about its faulty lock, but the owner refused to pay for fixes.

“People should be like you,” the repairman said. “Spend wisely to stay safe.”

A hidden hint.

Once every drawer, cabinet, and door was secured, Miller paid the fee, and the repairman left satisfied.

“Thank god this realm gave us enough money,” Miller muttered.

Last time, participants had to earn cash themselves—a brutal ordeal.

Now, with the black cat fed, windows locked, and furniture secured, he set an alarm and collapsed onto the master bed.

His body had hit its limit.

The moment his eyelids shut, he was out.

He’d done everything he could—now, he just had to wake up alive.

Meanwhile, Across the World…

Other chosen ones had their own methods:

• Sakura Nation’s Chief Onmyōji, Abe Hirohira, summoned a non-human shikigami to stand guard.

• The Brahmin monk from Ancient India relied on divine blessings—his granted “immunity to death by illness.” (Though sickness still weakened him.)

Most followed their interpretations, fortified their rooms, and succumbed to exhaustion.

Zhang Yangqing’s Approach: A Cat’s Worst Nightmare

Zhang Yangqing returned later than most.

While others fled the rain, he’d strolled back casually—completely dry, completely unbothered.

Yet even he felt the realm’s strange effects: hunger and drowsiness striking like clockwork.

Upon entering, he prepared to feed the cat—

But the black cat wasn’t on the sofa.

It was huddled in a corner, trembling.

The moment Zhang Yangqing stepped inside, the cat’s eyes screamed:

“STAY AWAY FROM ME!”

Then it hit him.

Ah. My aura’s still active.

Cats sensed danger instinctively—and right now, he was the danger.

With a thought, he suppressed his killing intent, and the cat finally relaxed.

“Pathetic creature. Don’t worry—if you behave, I won’t kill you.”

Dragon Nation’s audience burst out laughing.

Other chosen ones feared the cat yet begged for its protection.

But Zhang Yangqing?

He was the one the cat feared.

“Honestly, this cat should be grateful it’s in the rules,” viewers joked.

“Otherwise, whether you live till morning wouldn’t matter—but it sure wouldn’t!”