Weird Rules Rumor: At The Beginning, He Insisted That He Was Not Dead-Chapter 83: Train of the Century (3)
The note was palm-sized, crumpled, with crooked writing as if scribbled by a trembling hand.
Bai Lian bent to pick it up and began reading each word carefully.
“Don’t sleep in the lounge cars. If you’re exhausted, take a short nap, but don’t fall into deep sleep—you won’t hear the music when it starts!!!”
“So thirsty… need water… the children’s car has none. The vending machine is off. I want to turn it on…”
“My car is #15. Yes, I remember! My car should be #15!”
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“If a conductor in black speaks to you, DO NOT respond or react!!!”
“You can carry the music box. When it starts following you, play the music—it’ll save your life. But no!!!”
“When passing through corridors, ignore the numbers. Just return to your original car before the number changes…”
“This isn’t the train to City J. I want off! I want off!!”
“No, the train is still moving. I must return to Car 15, sit in my seat, and wait for it to stop!”
“I must return to my seat… I want to leave… yes, I want to leave!”
As Bai Lian read the scribbles, his expression grew grave.
The note contained substantial information, including rules—some conflicting with the broadcast.
For example, regarding the music box: the announcement stated it must be surrendered to a conductor within 24 hours, but the note claimed carrying it could counter “it.” What was “it”? A hidden threat?
Additionally, the note advised ignoring car numbers when moving between them, contradicting the broadcast’s emphasis on sequential numbering.
Most perplexing was the writer’s indecision—desperation to escape versus clinging to their seat.
Bai Lian rubbed his temples, organizing his thoughts.
“For now, following the broadcast rules is safer. The note’s claims need verification…”
As he tucked the note away and turned toward Car 16, a glass-like dome suddenly encased him!
Tap… tap… tap.
Light footsteps echoed. Bai Lian turned to see a man emerge from the shadows—leather jacket, black armor, spiked hair, a scar over his left eye, and a crimson mole at his lip’s corner. Triangular talismans flickered in his hands.
The man smirked, radiating smugness.
“I planned to wait until you left, but luck’s on your side—finding a clue without even exiting the car.”
He halted his talisman-throwing and adjusted his hair. “Hand it over. We’re both players. You know the stakes.”
Bai Lian hadn’t noticed the man earlier—either hidden by stealth talismans or beneath a seat. His methods were refined, far beyond average players.
Bai Lian eyed the glass dome. “What is this?”
“You don’t know Restriction Talismans?” The man arched a brow, incredulous. Such tools were basic for seasoned players.
“Ah, Restriction Talismans. Got it.” Bai Lian nodded. One of his titles allowed him to bypass restraints.
He activated it.
To the man’s shock, Bai Lian phased through the dome as if it were mist.
“You—!” The man gaped but swiftly tore another talisman. A new dome trapped Bai Lian.
Smirking, he brandished a curved knife. “Think you’ll escape again? I’ve got talismans to spare.”
He lunged—
“Wait!” Bai Lian frowned. “Why do you have Restriction Talismans and I don’t? Absurd!”
The man paused, baffled. “What?”
“And you’ve got a weapon while I’m empty-handed? Ridiculous!”
The man glanced at his knife, then at Bai Lian’s bare hands. “So? I’m smart. You’re not. Where’s the absurdity?”
He raised the blade—
And froze. The knife vanished.
