I am a full-level celestial master, you let me enter the strange talk of rules?

The beautiful woman with peach blossom eyes suddenly opened her eyes, her drowsiness vanished. Zhang Yangqing leaned forward slightly, already preparing for something.

The two sneaked out of the alley and crouched behind the bushes by the roadside, peeking out through the gaps in the branches and leaves.

The truck slowly drove in from the other end of the street, its headlights casting long beams of light in the darkness, illuminating every crack in the road surface.

The truck was white with the words "Dedicated Transport Vehicle for Madame Tussauds at Midnight" printed on it in blue.

The car was driving at a moderate speed, which felt strange, but no one could quite put their finger on why.

Sure enough, Zhang Yangqing saw the familiar freight truck and felt a surge of emotion.

The car, the road, the time—everything is exactly the same as I remember.

The car stopped, and two people got out.

One was a driver, wearing a blue work uniform, a baseball cap, and a cigarette dangling from his mouth.

One was a porter, wearing a gray vest, with muscular arms and a buzz cut.

According to the rules, they are all "deliverymen," the so-called "good people."

What Zhang Yangqing found unfamiliar was that the two deliverymen were strangers to him; he had never seen them before.
He may have forgotten how the two deliverymen he knew died.

He used those two people to "test" the rules, and when the rules were triggered, the two people died on the spot, leaving no trace of their bodies.

Later, a new batch of deliverymen were hired, and these two are the ones they are.

After the truck came to a stop, the driver turned off the engine and walked to the back of the truck with the movers to open the cargo door.

Two wax figures lay inside the carriage, wrapped in white foam, with only their faces and limbs visible.

The wax figures were large and heavy. It took the two deliverymen a lot of effort to drag them out of the truck, put them on a trolley, and push them to the entrance of the wax museum.

Two wax figures stand on either side of the door. One is a noblewoman in an evening gown with a faint smile on her lips.

The other figure is a gentleman in a tailcoat, holding a cane.

Under the moonlight, the wax figure's skin had a faint glow, and every pore and every line was clearly visible, just like a living person.

The deliveryman knocked on the door and called out through the crack, "Hey, delivery guy, the package's here! It's a bit hot outside, this stuff might melt, should we bring it inside?"

Their voices were loud, especially clear on the quiet street.

The security guard's voice came from inside, muffled, coming through the door: "No need to trouble you, you can go now, I'll come out and get it myself in a bit."

His tone was firm, leaving no room for negotiation. This was the best outcome he could come up with; even if the rules said the deliveryman was a good person, no one could be allowed in.

This is what the rules say; it's not something he can choose.

The deliveryman didn't say anything, put the wax figure at the door, turned around, got into his car, started the engine, and drove away.

The beams of the car headlights swept across the street and then disappeared around the corner.

The sound of the engine grew fainter and fainter until it disappeared completely into the night.

Not long after, the door to the wax museum opened a crack. It wasn't the main door that opened completely, but just a crack, big enough for one person to squeeze through sideways.

The security guard peeked out from under the door, looked around to make sure no one was outside, and then came out.

He was wearing a gray security guard uniform with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the collar unbuttoned.

The security guard had deep dark circles under his eyes, chapped lips, and looked exhausted. He walked up to the two wax figures, bent down, grabbed the base of the lady's wax figure with both hands, and lifted it up with force.

The wax figure was very heavy, and his face turned red from the effort, with veins bulging on his forehead, but he gritted his teeth and moved step by step toward the door.

After moving the first statue inside, he came out to move the second one.

After he finished moving everything, he leaned against the door, bent over, with his hands on his knees, panting heavily.

He finally breathed a sigh of relief. Today's task was completed without incident or damage to the wax figures. All he had to do was wait until the shift ended.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead and prepared to close the door and go back to rest.

He froze when the door was halfway closed.

Two more people appeared in the hall, a man and a woman. The man was wearing coarse gray-white clothes, and the woman was carrying a long, narrow object wrapped in rags on her back.

They were facing away from him, looking up at the wax figures in the hall.

The security guard didn't even know when the two people had come in.

He was clearly at the door the whole time, and he clearly didn't see anyone pass by. How did they get in?
The security guard's mind went blank as he realized he had broken the rules, and he was terrified.

He instinctively took a step back, leaning against the door, his hand groping for the baton at his waist.

He recognized the two people; they were the man and woman who had just appeared on the surveillance footage.

The security guard looked to be in his early thirties, with a small mustache, and seemed listless.

His uniform had several tears, and there was an unhealed wound on his arm, which was hastily wrapped with gauze. The gauze was dirty, and the blood that had seeped out had dried and turned dark brown.

He must have been quite frightened here; these injuries are the best proof of that.

Zhang Yangqing and the beautiful woman with peach blossom eyes ignored him and strolled around the hall as if nothing had happened.

The beautiful woman with peach blossom eyes walked up to a wax figure, reached out her hand, and carefully touched the wax figure's face.

The touch sent shivers down her spine; it wasn't cold or smooth, but warm, elastic, and felt like real skin.

The beautiful woman with peach blossom eyes exclaimed in amazement, "Wow, brother, are these wax figures? They look so lifelike! They're exactly like human skin. Look at the pores and textures, they're so realistic!"

Zhang Yangqing laughed, a laugh that carried a hint of mischief, a hint of amusement, and an indescribable sense of saying something amusing: "Some wax figures might just be made of human skin."

The beautiful woman with peach blossom eyes recoiled as if she had been burned.

She had seen many human skin products in Yudu, and she had also seen skinned specimens in the shelter, but those things were obviously real.

But these wax figures are different; they are so realistic that it's hard to tell them apart from real ones.

The beautiful woman with peach blossom eyes is incredibly powerful, possessing the cultivation of a beginner saint, making her practically invincible in this world.

But there are some things she doesn't want to touch, not out of fear, but out of disgust.

Zhang Yangqing walked around the hall, his gaze shifting from one wax figure to another.

He has been gone for some time now, and many of the wax figures in the lobby have been replaced.

Some of those familiar faces are still there, while others have disappeared, replaced by new faces.

If the curator knew Zhang Yangqing was "lamenting" here, he would definitely scold him: "Don't you have any self-awareness about who broke it back then?" (End of Chapter)