Rules of Horror: Survival Begins in the Haunted Harem - Chapter 2

Xie Nuange listened in silence.

Her brother had taught her the key to surviving a scenario: listen more, watch more, speak less.

Anyone who had lived this long and still dared enter the ultimate scenario was no simple opponent. Of the five women in this room, she was probably the weakest. She had only cleared a handful of scenarios, and her brother had been with her every time.

“Don’t tell me they turned into eunuchs,” said a tall, striking woman with an easy air. She sounded completely untroubled by the fact that they had entered the ultimate scenario.

“If they did become eunuchs, could their mission be to help the people in their faction remain in the palace?” Another woman had been trembling since she entered the room. “How are we supposed to contact our teammates?”

“If you have time to worry about other people, worry about yourself first.”

The last woman was slender and aloof, her expression glacial. Her cold remark ended the discussion.

“Fair enough. This is the hardest ultimate scenario to appear in ten years. It opened for the first time three years ago. Thousands of contestants supposedly went in, but only three made it back out.”

“If those three hadn’t brought word that it was an ancient-world scenario, and that every cleared stage came with a massive power boost, I wouldn’t have been interested either.”

The round-faced girl walked to the center of the room and looked at the other four women in their cubicles.

“Why don’t we exchange names? When we check the door later, we can warn each other if something is wrong. I’m Cheng Luo. What about you?”

Silence lingered for several seconds.

“Ye Wan,” the striking woman said lazily.

“Fang Yule.” The frightened woman glanced up at the others.

“Meng Shi,” said the icy beauty.

Once they had introduced themselves, they all stood and turned toward Xie Nuange. She had pale skin and the kind of bold, classical features that would hold their own beneath heavy makeup.

Xie Nuange met their eyes with a faint smile. “I’m Xie Nuange.”

They had all glanced at the nameplates before entering.

Giving them her name did not mean she trusted them. It was a gesture—a willingness to cooperate for now. At least until they knew one another’s factions, they could watch the nameplates outside the room together.

That was enough.

After the introductions, the room fell quiet again.

The sand in the water clock reached the mark for the Hour of the Goat.

Xie Nuange left the room with the others.

A palace matron was already waiting in front of the Palace of Gathered Elegance.

The fifty palace candidates formed five rows. Xie Nuange stood in the third. Some of her roommates were in the second row; the others stood beside or behind her.

The matron waited at the top of the steps with two lines of palace maids behind her. Xie Nuange watched one of them for several seconds.

The maid did not blink once.

“Today…” The matron paused. “I will teach Your Ladyships the proper way to walk within the palace.”

“Palace rules stand above all else, and even walking has its rules.”

She tipped up her chin. The two rows of palace maids moved at once.

Step. Land. Turn. Step again.

Their movements were perfectly synchronized—more precise than soldiers on parade.

“When walking in the palace, each stride must be no more than two chi and no less than one. Your feet must touch the ground lightly, and your gaze must remain fixed three zhang ahead…”

Xie Nuange studied the maids’ feet and calculated quickly.

Two chi was sixty-six centimeters. That meant the distance between one step and the next could not be less than thirty-three centimeters or greater than sixty-six.

They could not lower their heads to watch their feet, because they had to keep their eyes fixed three zhang ahead.

They could not step too heavily.

Everyone strained to memorize the pace and rhythm of the two palace maids, along with every warning the matron gave.

After the maids completed a circuit, the matron pointed to the palace candidates in the first row.

“You begin. One row at a time.”

The first ten women stepped forward. Xie Nuange silently congratulated herself for choosing the third row. She watched the first group take their opening step.

Their feet landed softly.

The matron did nothing.

They took a second step in unison, just as lightly.

Still no reaction.

The third step…

“Stride too short.”

The matron’s voice sounded at the same instant her ruler came down.

Crack!

The sound of tearing cloth snapped across everyone’s nerves.

The back of one candidate’s pale pink robe split open. Flesh peeled apart beneath it, and blood soaked through the fabric in seconds.

The woman swayed, but she stayed upright. She neither fell nor made a sound.

[Rule Three: Loud noises are forbidden within the palace grounds.]

Blood streamed down her back. Xie Nuange stared at the wound, surprise flickering through her eyes.

It was closing visibly. Within seconds, the gash that had laid open her flesh disappeared altogether.

A ghost item? Or a skill?

Everyone who cleared a rules-horror scenario received a reward.

Besides a dramatic improvement to every aspect of their physical ability, survivors awakened skills—short-range teleportation, telekinesis, healing, and countless others.

Skills were powered and strengthened through mental energy. Overuse, however, caused dizziness, total physical exhaustion, and loss of combat ability.

Ghost items, on the other hand, were objects acquired by clearing scenarios. Most could be used only three to five times before they became useless.

Both skills and ghost items worked inside scenarios and in the real world.

There was only one difference: ghost items could be stolen. Skills could not.

Order had collapsed long ago during the past ten years. The law no longer decided who held power.

Skills and ghost items did. The strongest person made the rules.

The three people who had cleared this scenario three years ago had been ordinary before they entered. After surviving it by the skin of their teeth, Blue Star treated them as honored guests. Organizations fought to recruit them. Outside these gates, they could command almost anything they wished.

No matter how high the elimination rate, people still flocked to the scenarios.

“Keep walking.”

The matron’s voice remained flat, as though nothing had happened.

The first row continued to the far end of the courtyard. Apart from the woman who had been struck once, they all passed.

Then came the second row.

Xie Nuange watched their feet, her gaze calm and untroubled.

Her turn would be next.

Every lifesaving ghost item she and her brother had owned had gone with him three years ago. Since then, she had only entered scenarios occasionally while searching for news of him. Any ghost items she obtained were traded for travel expenses and basic living supplies.

She had nothing left that could save her life. Only one skill whose usefulness was debatable at best.

Inside her shoes, Xie Nuange flexed her toes.

The flowerpot soles were nearly ten centimeters high, lifting her center of gravity. Maintaining balance on them was difficult enough without having to control the exact length of every stride.

And how would that length be measured? From the platform beneath the shoe? Or from the shoe itself?

Crack!

Another blow cut off her thoughts.

One of the candidates in the second row had been struck.

This woman had no way to protect herself. Blood seeped steadily from the wound on her back, quickly staining her robe red.

“Continue.”

The matron urged her on like an emotionless machine.

The wounded woman took another step, but her rhythm had broken. Afraid of making another mistake, she could not resist glancing down to check the length of her stride.

She did not even get a clear look.

The world spun. Her line of sight plunged, then stopped at Xie Nuange’s feet.

Their eyes met.

Fear and unwillingness still clung to the woman’s gaze as her pupils slowly spread.

Blood poured from the stump of her neck and pooled dark red across the flagstones.

Xie Nuange looked at the severed head that had rolled to her feet. Her fingertips twitched once, then she turned her eyes away.

It was her panicked roommate.

Fang Yule.