Weird Rules Rumor: At The Beginning, He Insisted That He Was Not Dead-Chapter 110: Genetic Tower (9)

The corridor was plunged in profound darkness, eerie enough to make one’s skin crawl. The dim light flickered weakly, as if it might extinguish at any moment.

It seemed poised for action, waiting to devour the light like a calamity.

Tap! Tap! Tap!

Clear footsteps echoed in sync with the rhythm of a heartbeat. Gradually, a figure emerged from the gloom, its shadow stretching longer and longer.

It was a woman wearing a white lab coat, an employee ID card hanging from her chest, and an analyzer device over her eyes—gear only players could equip.

“I only found one folder of materials. Looks like I’ll need to check other labs. A building map would be nice,” the woman sighed, setting the folder aside and storing it. She then raised her head and scanned her surroundings.

“Unknown danger? Most people should be in escape pods by now. Perfect timing to collect more documents.” She took out a key, the corners of her lips lifting slightly.

A Universal Key, capable of unlocking any lock. Though its uses were limited, it was inexpensive, and players could easily stockpile hundreds after changing classes.

With this key, she could access any lab and search for biological data.

The woman clenched the key, turned, and continued forward. But after just two steps, she froze.

In this corridor where she was utterly alone, the silence was suffocating—only her breathing and heartbeat echoed.

Yet now, she noticed another figure in the darkness ahead, black as pitch. It emitted no breath, and she hadn’t even sensed its arrival.

The woman stared intently, trying to discern details, but saw nothing. The shadow’s form was visible only through her analyzer.

“You… are you a player too?” she asked hesitantly, unease tightening her chest.

Suddenly, text flashed across her analyzer’s screen:

«Experimental Subject #032 located. Execution order confirmed!»

The woman’s eyes narrowed sharply. Though she couldn’t read the specifics, she clearly saw her own designation—#032.

Experimental Subject #032… She whirled around and sprinted away. A triangular amulet materialized in her hand, then vanished.

The next instant, a glass-like spatial barrier enveloped the shadowy figure, freezing it in place.

Seeing this, the fleeing woman allowed herself a faint smile. She didn’t understand what was happening, but the threat seemed neutralized—for now.

Thud!

Black spikes pierced through her back, erupting from her chest. Her smile vanished, replaced by stunned disbelief as she stared at the shadowy figure now standing before her.

“Huh…?” She froze for a split second. A voodoo doll appeared in her hands—and the next moment, she vanished, leaving only the doll behind with a gaping hole through its chest.

«Recall failed. Continuing pursuit…»

The two shadows—one ahead, one behind—stared at the fallen doll, then dissolved back into the darkness...

In the observation room, Bai Lian and Lin Ya watched the monitor until the shadow vanished from view.

“What ability was that? Did she just substitute her own death?” Lin Ya remarked, surprised the woman had survived.

Bai Lian stroked his chin thoughtfully, giving Lin Ya a puzzled look:

“Actually, I’ve been wondering something...”

“What?” Lin Ya turned to face him.

“If you can’t see, how do you perceive everything on the monitor so accurately? Is your sensory ability really that extraordinary?”

If she were truly blind yet knew what the footage showed, it’d be bizarre. If she could “see” the screen normally, that’d be even more illogical.

Lin Ya smiled faintly.

“I thought it was something serious. Let me explain: my perception isn’t visual—it’s more like seeing through spiritual sense.”

She tapped her chest.

“I don’t use my eyes. It’s all channeled through here. Ever since I lost my sight, this ability emerged. Honestly, even I don’t fully understand it. It’s like… having invisible extra eyes.”

Bai Lian seemed to grasp it, though not entirely.

Either way, this woman’s abilities were unusual: her perception rivaled sight, yet it wasn’t vision.

Suddenly, Bai Lian’s eyes lit up with realization.

He snatched Facai—who’d been edging back toward the bed—and hurried toward the door.

“Where are you going?” Lin Ya called out, catching up to him.

“Found something interesting. Need to check a lab,” Bai Lian replied without turning, already opening the door.

Lin Ya glanced at the surveillance feed showing shadowy figures hunting players. Hesitating, she followed.

“Those shadows are slaughtering anyone outside. Isn’t stepping out like walking into a tiger’s den?” She frowned. “Wouldn’t staying in the dormitory be smarter? Wait until the threat passes.”

“Do you really think hiding here is safe?”

Bai Lian looked at her, then remembered she wasn’t a player. He added,

“You might be fine staying, but I’m not allowed to.”

He removed the analyzer from his eyes, studying this player-exclusive device with intense focus.

Lin Ya noticed his expression. “Problem with that thing?”

Bai Lian nodded. “Yes.”

And it wasn’t minor.

He finally understood the device’s true purpose. It aided players—but not benevolently.

Its core function was tracking their location.

And whoever controlled these analyzers was the very force hunting them—the shadows!

The pursuers’ analyzers specifically targeted the players’ devices. That’s how players were being pinpointed so swiftly.

Where did these shadows originate? The answer was obvious: only those who’d disembarked from the mothership would possess such analyzers.

And their objective?

Are the players themselves the real ‘biological samples’? Bai Lian’s mind raced as he pieced together the clues.

But if so, why hadn’t the mothership killed them outright? Why send them into the Genetic Tower?

No. The ship still needed external biological data—the task required collecting 100 specimens. Yet the shadows were hunting...

“Unless they only need 100 total samples, not 100 per player...” A spark ignited in Bai Lian’s eyes.

He felt he’d grasped the critical flaw—the key to unlocking the dungeon’s highest completion rating.