Chapter Ninety-Five

He looked at the massive creature before him and suddenly smiled.

Chen Qing turned his head just as a sharp slap blossomed across Jiang Wan’s face, leaving a vivid, crimson bruise evenly spread over the left side of her cheek.

She froze for a moment, the pain slowly bringing her back to awareness.

Lowering her gaze to her fingertips, she first felt puzzled, then turned to Chen Qing, who had struck her, and asked, “Why... why did you stop me? It called us over.”

“Who did it call?” he asked.

“It called... uh!”

Before Jiang Wan could finish, Chen Qing covered her mouth with a hand. “How can you be so dumb...” he muttered, lowering his voice. Casting a glance at the nearby tangible creatures, his eyes betrayed a hint of disdain.

“Recall the note Zhang Lan left us,” he said. “Do you know what kind of lie is easiest to believe?”

Jiang Wan pondered, her thoughts becoming clearer. Reflection—thinking—is humanity’s greatest act; it dissipates all confusion like mist before dawn.

“Nine truths and one lie?” she guessed, looking at Chen Qing. The ghostly outline of her uniform had completely vanished.

Chen Qing shook his head, flicking a note in his other hand. “No, but it’s not a pure lie either.”

He stepped forward a few paces. Suddenly, the giant’s face broke into a smile, but it didn’t last long before Chen Qing raised his hand and struck it heavily across the face. The crisp sound echoed sharply; it was clear Chen Qing had put some force behind his slap.

The giant’s expression flickered in surprise, about to flare up in anger, but before it could vent, Chen Qing smiled strangely and spoke to it, “This is my mission.”

“Your... mission?”

The giant lowered its head, but Chen Qing immediately swung another slap, his arm moving so fast it left a blur, causing the thick-skinned giant’s face to flush red.

“I! Did NOT give you! Your mission!”

The giant raised its arm high, but as Jiang Wan dared not open her eyes, its arm remained suspended in the air.

It held its arm aloft as she trembled and slowly opened her eyes. The six or seven tangible beings before her were staring intently. Chen Qing understood he had correctly guessed the rules of this place.

“Who... gave you this mission?” it asked again, still holding its arm up.

“None of your damn business,” Chen Qing replied.

“I...” The giant hesitated, “If you have a superior, then it’s fine. But if you don’t—”

It suddenly laughed.

“Yes, I do. Who says I don’t?” Chen Qing shot back.

“Then tell me who your superior is!”

“None of your damn business.”

In that instant, as Chen Qing’s words left his mouth, shock, fear, and the fury of a failed scheme flashed across the giant’s face.

“Impossible...” it grabbed the nearby tangible clerks, tearing their shoulders repeatedly. The ripped muscle fibers splattered blood across Chen Qing’s face; the cracking bones caused him some pain.

Yet he looked at the giant and smiled.

“So it is as I thought.”

He chuckled softly, stepping back two paces. “The rules of Level 2 are now clear.”

As he spoke, he grabbed Jiang Wan’s hand. “We must go. This is an order from your superior—me.”

Unlike Chen Qing, Jiang Wan looked back at the still-roaring tangible creatures, cold sweat trickling down. “What on earth is going on?”

“The rules here are simple: during working hours, you must unconditionally obey your superior’s orders.” Chen Qing glanced at Jiang Wan as he reached for the black curtain on one side of the room. He pulled it aside, but beyond was not another room.

He pushed open a door, revealing a world constructed of concrete and gray stairs. He vaguely remembered that before entering, the hallway seemed wide enough to fit more than ten standard rooms side by side.

But now, it was gone?

He clicked his tongue and fixed his gaze on the next level up—the third floor.

“What does this mean? I understand the rule, but what exactly does it mean?!” Jiang Wan’s eyes widened, filled with confusion. If Chen Qing said the rule was true, then why—

“It means that following this rule leads to death?” she frowned. “So the note’s rules are written backwards? We shouldn’t listen to it?”

Chen Qing paused, his expression odd. “Your understanding... isn’t exactly wrong. But I feel that this way of thinking could get you killed.”

He shook his head before explaining further: “It’s not that you shouldn’t listen to it, but rather, ‘when you follow an order from a certain target, you become its subordinate.’”

He looked at Jiang Wan and continued, “Remember how you almost merged with those clerks earlier?”

“I... remember.”

“When it told you to sit, it didn’t specify any one of us, because it’s not our ‘superior’ and has no authority over us. But if we comply and sit at those desks, then by the rules, it becomes our superior and gains control over us.”

He caught his breath, then went on, “And that’s the key problem, the reason why your understanding could be fatal. ‘Obeying your superior’s orders’ is indeed a rule in Level 2. Here, you must obey your superior’s commands. Any action taken under their instructions is recognized by all entities in this level.

“In other words, if you set yourself as your own superior, you become a superhuman here. But if you inadvertently obey one of their rules, you will be transformed into an entity.”

Jiang Wan furrowed her brow, still puzzled. “So, except for the last rule, all the rules on the note are false?”

“No, definitely not,” Chen Qing smiled and dismissed her idea. “In fact, everything written on that note is true.”

“Eh?”

“This backroom mimics our actions and forges false notes, right?”

She thought for a moment and nodded.

“So it imitates our behavior, entering Level 2 as an investigator, then becomes subordinate to some entity.

“At that point,” he continued, “this entity can order it to do anything, and it must comply... for it, perfect obedience means survival.”

Chen Qing caught his breath before elaborating, “Because of the rule that you must obey your superior’s orders, none of the information on those notes is false. It could say you can’t turn off the lights, can’t eat, or must work all night.

“In other words, every word your ‘superior’ speaks becomes a rule for you.

“So it can write anything, and none of it will be false.

“Real lies are what deceive the target.

“But once you follow the fourth rule, countless other rules will bind you.”

Listening, Jiang Wan suddenly realized, “So... actually, the fourth rule isn’t false either.”

“Yes,” Chen Qing nodded in agreement. “That’s the problem. The superior’s orders equal the rules here. The superior’s orders are law.

“Once you receive a superior’s order, you can do anything—leave the backroom, move to the next level, even strike entities inside the backroom. And those entities? As part of the rules, they must obey your commands and fulfill your demands.”

Jiang Wan understood everything by now. This was a subtle plot. If someone reading the note suspected some rules true and others false and tried to discern which was which, they would only become more confused.

If they opposed every rule, the entities could simply say, ‘Hurry and leave this room,’ and the moment you step through the curtain, you become one of them.

Jiang Wan dared not think further. She glanced sideways at Chen Qing before her. In this world, he was living his own remarkable story.

As they conversed, even with slowed steps, they finally reached the third floor. This level’s height was far greater than the lower ones—nearly eight meters tall, the view dominated by intricately arranged transport pipes about a person’s width. The pipes were secured by mortise-and-tenon joints and iron bars, five or six water pipes covering an entire wall.

Jiang Wan looked around in confusion, then asked Chen Qing, “Did you see any rooms here?”