Weird Rules Rumor: At The Beginning, He Insisted That He Was Not Dead

“【From Lie to Reality】”: The more people believe your lie, the easier it becomes reality. Begin your performance, deceiver!

Skills, 【From Lie to Reality】?!

Bai Lian froze, not expecting a skill to drop immediately upon entering the dungeon.

But this skill…

How to put it?

It was strong, but not overwhelmingly so.

It allowed lies to become reality if enough people believed them.

The problem was: how to make others believe the lies!

“This’ll be a challenge,” Bai Lian smirked faintly, interest flashing in his eyes.

For dungeon runs or revives, this was highly convenient. He’d change it back after clearing the dungeon.

The darkness began to dissipate, revealing a faint point of light.

The glow was dim, illuminating only two or three meters around Bai Lian.

It gradually spread through the darkness, growing fainter until it touched an old, rusted iron door.

Bai Lian now found himself in a prison cell.

As the environment clarified, he frowned involuntarily.

The air reeked of damp decay, sinister and horrifying, suffused with utter lifelessness.

Bai Lian stepped toward the iron door and noticed something odd.

Glancing down, he saw his wrists and ankles shackled.

His clothes had changed too — he now wore a prisoner’s uniform.

He’d become an inmate.

But Bai Lian paid this little mind. Peering through the door’s gap, he saw a dark corridor outside.

Dim bulbs flickered along gray walls, heavy iron doors, and paint-stained floors, creating an atmosphere of dread.

Across the corridor, another cell held a player also in prison garb, peering out.

Their eyes met briefly before both withdrew.

Bai Lian inspected his cell thoroughly.

As Cheng had described in the dungeon’s background:

No escape routes whatsoever.

No windows, only a dim bulb deepening the sense of desolate isolation.

Strange symbols and drawings covered the walls — graffiti left by former inmates, oozing hatred and boundless terror.

Staying here long could drive anyone mad.

Thud!

Bai Lian punched the wall. It resonated dully — reinforced steel lay beneath.

“If they filmed The Shawshank Redemption here, even Andy would’ve given up,” he remarked, eyeing the impregnable walls.

With security this extreme, trying to chip through with a tiny hammer would wear it down to a needle before making progress.

Outside, the livestream chat:

Viewers flooded in upon the stream notification. Seeing Bai Lian already in a dungeon, comments turned incredulous:

【??? What cursed hour is this? Don’t you sleep, damn it?!】

【Was about to hit the sack when the stream alert popped up. Who’s streaming at— Oh. You again!】

【Relentless dungeon grinder! Did you come to the Mysterious World for grocery shopping?!】

【Is this guy even human? Starting to doubt it!】

【Fine, no sleep tonight. All hail Bai Shen!】

Viewers couldn’t comprehend. Bai Lian had just cleared a dungeon.

Yet here he was, diving into another?

Even farm donkeys got more rest!

Meanwhile, Bai Lian lay on the bunk, eyes closed, strategizing.

His “Speedrun Master” title allowed instant teleportation.

But unfamiliar with this dungeon’s layout, blind jumps could land him in lethal situations.

He dismissed the idea.

As for 【From Lie to Reality】…

Making fellow players believe his lies seemed impossible.

Those entering this dungeon were likely class-changed veterans.

Getting them to trust him? A miracle if they didn’t try killing him first.

But one group could be manipulated — the stream viewers.

“Must have a decent audience by now,” Bai Lian mused, a sly grin forming.

After his previous dungeon feats, viewers surely flocked to his stream.

Could their belief in this “E-ranked world” influence reality here?

If not, this approach failed.

If yes… this dungeon just became trivial.

Worth testing regardless.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

A shrill whistle pierced every cell.

Bai Lian’s eyes snapped open. At the door’s gap, he watched guards march down the corridor with batons.

They carried stacks of books, tossing one into each cell while barking orders.

Soon, they reached Bai Lian’s cell.

Their words finally clarified:

“New fish! Prison rules — memorize ’em! Inspection in three days!”

But Bai Lian overheard something else:

“This one’s got a Split skill. Watch closely — don’t let him escape!”

The whisper was faint, yet audible.

What? Guards could see player skills?

Impossible!

Bai Lian’s eyes narrowed.

NPC guards shouldn’t possess such abilities beyond enforcing rules.

Unless…

Realization struck.

These weren’t NPCs. They were players — one with a skill to detect others’ abilities!

Likely granted to balance faction numbers.

Teams with fewer members often received buffs.

Trouble multiplied.

Bai Lian’s smirk vanished.

His skill just became nearly useless.

The guards arrived at his cell. A book thudded onto the floor.

As Bai Lian caught it, the skill-sensing guard’s eyes bulged.

His expression blended confusion, shock, and disbelief.

“How?! Who’d get such a ridiculous skill?!”