Since all these rules and superstitions are outdated, what's wrong with me indulging in some me

Zhuogu Ranxi sincerely presents "All Rules Are Strange Tales, So What If I Use Some Metaphysics?", exclusively launched by Cola Novels!

Yan Xiangming caught up with Lu Changsheng in the corridor.

He walked much faster than usual.

"What you just said," Yan Xiangming said in a low voice, as if afraid of being overheard by passersby in the corridor, "was it something you came up with yourself, or did you see it in a dungeon?"

Lu Changsheng was silent for two seconds. "Yes, I have both."

How long do you plan to take the rule analysis course?

"See how well they learn. If they learn quickly, they'll progress quickly. If they learn slowly, they'll progress slowly. But I won't lower my standards to catch up."

Lu Changsheng stopped, turned around, and looked at Yan Xiangming.

"Minister Yan, do you know what the average survival rate of Chinese players is in dungeons right now?"

Yan Xiangming's expression darkened slightly. "Thirty-one percent."

"Do you know how this number was calculated? It's the total number of players who entered the instance divided by the number of players who came out alive."

"But here's the problem—many players don't die in the dungeon, but rather they die without knowing how they died in the dungeon."

They didn't even know how they died, because before entering the instance, despite the excellent public education provided in China, they still had no idea what the "Rules of the Strange" were.

"They thought the rules were exactly what they said, that they could survive as long as they didn't break the rules, and that dungeons, like games, had strategies, routines, and fixed ways to clear them."

Yan Xiangming remained silent.

"I teach rule analysis not to turn them into experts, but to let them know that the rules are not literally what they seem before they even enter the game."

"At least we know there's another layer beneath the rules, and at least we know that surviving in a dungeon isn't about luck or brute force, but about using our brains."

Lu Changsheng turned around and continued walking forward.

"Tomorrow morning at eight o'clock, in the conference room. If you have time, you can come and listen."

Yan Xiangming stood there, watching Lu Changsheng's figure disappear at the end of the corridor. He neither said he would go nor he wouldn't; he simply stood there for a long time.

At 7:45 a.m. the next morning, Lu Changsheng pushed open the door to the conference room.

All forty people have arrived.

The tables and chairs had been rearranged, and four words were written on the blackboard: Rule Analysis.

Lu Changsheng stood on the podium, looking at the forty faces below.

"Today's first lesson," Lu Changsheng began, "is about—what the rules are."

He wrote two words on the blackboard: Rules.

"Everyone here has probably heard the term 'strange tales of rules.' You know there are rules in dungeons, you know that breaking the rules will lead to death, and you know that following the rules doesn't guarantee survival. But have you ever wondered—what exactly are rules?"

No one answered.

It's not because they don't know, but because they've never thought about it.

Rules are the system's instructions, the constraints on copies, and the boundary between life and death.

These are the rules. What else is there to think about?

"Rules are not instructions."

Lu Changsheng said that his voice was not loud, but every word was like a nail driven into everyone's ears.

"Rules are language. They are the system using human language to describe a non-human logic. You think you understand the rules, but you've only understood the literal meaning."

Beneath the literal meaning lies another layer of meaning. And beneath that layer lies yet another. Layer upon layer, downwards, until you touch that inhuman logic. Only at that level have you truly 'comprehended' the rules.

Immediately afterwards, Lu Changsheng took out a small stack of papers and handed them out one by one.

The paper rustled softly as it was passed from hand to hand among the forty people. Some glanced down at it and frowned; others looked up, their eyes filled with confusion, at Lu Changsheng on the podium.

The paper was covered with densely printed text, like a copy of an instruction manual.

[Instance Name]: A Happy Family

[Instance Type]: Family Instance

Difficulty: B

[Rule 1]: Every night at 8 pm, the whole family must eat together.

[Rule 2]: Children must not interrupt when their parents are speaking.

[Rule 3]: The doors in your house cannot be opened after 10 p.m.

Rule 4: Don't make your mother angry.

The meeting room was silent for a few seconds. Then someone raised their hand—a young woman, about twenty-five or twenty-six years old, with short hair and wearing black-rimmed glasses.

"Instructor Lu," her voice hesitated, "this is a B-rank instance? The rules seem simple, why is it B-rank?"

Lu Changsheng glanced at her but didn't answer directly. He stepped down from the podium, leaned against the window, and put his hands in his pockets.

"Don't worry about the difficulty rating yet," he said. "Your task is to analyze what the possible 'theme' of this instance is before entering it."

A brief silence fell over the meeting room.

"Instructor Lu." A young man sitting in the back row raised his hand, his voice somewhat uncertain, "What does 'theme' mean? The dungeon has a theme?"

"Every instance has a theme," Lu Changsheng said. "The rules are the surface, the theme is the core. You think you are following the rules, but you are actually conforming to the theme. If you don't understand the theme, even if you memorize the rules perfectly, you will still fail because of the places where the rules are not written."

He paused for a moment.

"For example, there's a copy where the rule says 'Don't look back.' You think this is a rule about 'action'—just keep your neck from turning around."

But the theme of the dungeon is 'guilt'.

The monsters in that instance are people you've hurt. You don't dare look back, not because you can't, but because you feel guilty. The more guilty you feel, the more you want to turn back. The more you want to turn back, the easier it is to break the rules.

Someone in the conference room gasped.

"If you understand the topic, you'll know how to control your emotions. If you don't understand the topic, even if you nail your neck to the ground, your eyes will still dart in that direction—"

The rules determine 'intention,' not 'action.'

Lu Changsheng stood up, walked back to the podium, and picked up the chalk. He didn't rush to analyze the four rules, but instead wrote a line on the blackboard.

Common themes in family-themed copies:

Control, expectation, sacrifice, betrayal, forgetting.

The chalk made a squeaking sound on the blackboard.

"Family instance," Lu Changsheng turned around to face the forty faces, "is the most dangerous of all instance types. Not because it's difficult, but because it's too close to you."

Everyone has a family, and everyone knows the words "father," "mother," and "child." You think you understand family, so you use your own experience to interpret the rules—that's the most fatal flaw.

He picked up a red piece of chalk from the chalk trough and drew a horizontal line under the word "control".

"Let's start with 'control.' In family scenarios, control is the most common theme. It manifests in many ways—parents controlling children, husbands controlling wives, and elders controlling younger generations."

There are many tools for control—money, morality, emotions, violence.

He pointed to rule number four with red chalk: Don't make Mom angry.

"This rule seems simple—don't make Mom angry. But have you ever thought about who sets the standard for 'anger'?"

It was Mom who decided.

When she gets angry, why she gets angry, and to what extent she gets angry are all up to her.

What does this mean?

It means she has an invisible ruler in her hand, which she can use to measure you at any time.

You said, "The food is a little salty today," and she thought you were criticizing her, so she got angry. You broke the rules. You didn't talk back, didn't swear, didn't hit her—you just said, "The food is a little salty today." And then you died.

The air in the meeting room seemed to freeze.

"In this context, your task is not 'not to make Mom angry,' but 'to figure out what Mom's standards are for being angry.'"

This standard may have nothing to do with the rules written on paper—it may be hidden in rule one, "The whole family must eat together," or it may be hidden in rule three, "Doors must not be opened."

You need to read all four rules together and find the real "red line" hidden between the lines.

Lu Changsheng put down the red chalk, picked up the white chalk, and wrote the second word on the blackboard.

look forward to.

"The 'expectations' in the family dynamics are more insidious than 'control.' Control is active, while expectations are passive—your mother doesn't tell you what to do, but she has a standard in her heart. If you don't meet that standard, you are 'unfilial,' 'disobedient,' and 'immature.'"

In the real world, these words will only hurt your feelings. In the dungeon world, these words will kill you.

He pointed to rule number one: the whole family must eat together every night at eight o'clock.

"Have you ever thought about this rule—why is it emphasized that we should 'together'?"

Eating itself is not dangerous; what is dangerous is what is contained in the act of "eating together."

You sit down at the table, thinking you're just eating. But within the thematic framework of the family scenario, sitting down at the table is like taking an "exam."

Your parents will judge you through their eyes, tone of voice, facial expressions, and even silence. "How was your work today? When are you getting married? Why don't you have children? Why didn't you come home for the New Year?"

The chalk paused briefly on the blackboard.

"None of these issues will be written into the rules. These are the 'unwritten rules' of this instance. And the punishments for unwritten rules are often more severe than those for explicit rules."

Lu Changsheng put down the chalk, dusted off his hands, and walked back to the window, leaning against the windowsill.

"Now it's your turn. The remaining two themes—'sacrifice' and 'betrayal'—who can explain how these two rules correspond?"

The meeting room was silent for almost half a minute.

Then Su Wan raised her hand; it was the young woman with the black-rimmed glasses.

"Rule Three," Su Wan stood up, her voice much steadyer than before, "The doors to the house cannot be opened after 10 p.m.

Lu Changsheng remained silent, waiting for her to continue.

"If this rule is placed under the theme of 'sacrifice,' then that door might not be used to 'keep out' but rather to 'close in'."

The door cannot be opened after 10 PM, not because there is danger outside, but because someone who needs to be 'sacrificed' is locked inside.

She paused for a moment.

"Under the theme of 'sacrifice,' there is always someone in the family who has to be sacrificed."

After she finished speaking, the meeting room remained quiet for a long time.

Lu Changsheng looked at her, and the corners of his mouth curved slightly.

"Continue," he said. "And 'betrayal'?"

Su Wan took a deep breath.

"Rule number two." Her voice was slightly tense but steady, "Children must not interrupt when their parents are speaking."

She emphasized the word "child" very much.

"Under the theme of 'betrayal,' this 'child' may not be a real child. He may be someone without status."

Her voice grew softer and softer, until it sounded like she was talking to herself.

"And the price of betrayal is... you'll sit at this table forever, listening to them talk. Every day, every night at eight. Until you die."

Some people in the meeting room started to tremble.

Lu Changsheng straightened up from the windowsill and walked back to the podium.

"Su Wan's analysis is 70% correct."

The remaining 30% requires you to verify it yourself within the instance. Because the theme may differ depending on who enters the same instance.

The system's judgment criteria are related to the player's behavior, choices, and even mindset.

He paused for a moment, then picked up the piece of paper with the four rules printed on it and shook it in his hand.

"Tomorrow's class is at nine o'clock. It will be about rules and power."

He turned and walked towards the door.

Time flies, and half a month has passed in the blink of an eye. The experience of the forty trainees has improved by leaps and bounds.

Lu Changsheng also shared all his experience with the strange tales of rules with him, even imparting his knowledge of divination and physiognomy without reservation.

During the last week of classes, Lu Changsheng did not explain the rules.

He was talking about "outside the rules".

"The most dangerous place in the dungeon is outside the rules." Lu Changsheng leaned against the windowsill. "The places where the rules don't apply, the places where the system doesn't tell you what to do, the places where your intuition and experience completely fail—those places are called outside the rules."

He paused for a moment.

"Within the rules, you can survive by analyzing, by logic, and by following the rules. Outside the rules, none of these things matter. Outside the rules, you can only rely on one thing."

He stopped and looked at the forty faces below.

No one responded.

"Intuition," Lu Changsheng said. "Not the kind of intuition that says 'I feel I should do this,' but the kind that says 'My body acts before my brain does.' It's the kind of intuition where you can tell on which day a person will betray you just by looking at their face."

He straightened up, walked back to the podium from the window, and picked up the chalk.

"I can't teach this kind of intuition. It's not that I'm keeping it to myself, it's just that I don't know how to teach it."

This intuition is built from the scars, nightmares, and near-death memories you bring back from the dungeons. The more you accumulate, the more accurate your intuition. If it's not accumulated enough, intuition is just guesswork.

The chalk spun around between his fingers.

"So for the last week, I won't be having classes. You guys will be going into dungeons. Real combat."