A heretical cultivator in Bureau 749, I'm the fiercest at pulling out tendons and skinning peop

"Haha, sigh!"

Zhang Quan laughed so hard his shoulders shook, his long-lost liveliness completely returned. He casually pulled a small cloth bag from his pocket and tossed it to Ji Zuodao.

"This godforsaken place has nothing but this stuff, and there's plenty of it!"

Ji Zuodao took the bag; it felt heavy in his hand, and something inside jingled. He pulled out a resurrection coin, twirled it between his fingers, and wore a curious expression that said, "I've been waiting for this for ages."

"Actually, I've been wondering about this for a while now. If this thing can be resurrected, why didn't you just slit your own throat in the first place?"

He made a throat-slitting gesture, his eyes clear yet wicked.

"If you die and come back to life, your eyes will heal along with you, right? How convenient!"

"Come on, give me a break!"

Upon hearing this, Zhang Quan shook his head vigorously, his face clearly saying, "Young man, you are still too naive."

"This resurrection comes with conditions! Rather than a resurrection, it's more like a rewind—once a person dies, their body is forcibly pulled back to approximately... an hour ago."

"When I finally figured out these rules, I was practically blind for over a month!"

He sighed, his face showing a look of unbearable sorrow for the past.

"Guess what? I had the same thought as you! I thought this method was brilliant!"

"and then?"

"Then?"

Zhang Quan rolled his eyes and said irritably:

"Then I actually slit my throat. Once, twice, three times... I slit it at least ten times! Each time I hoped to open my eyes and see the light again, but each time I got up, everything was still black!"

"That feeling... you're so helpless you don't even have a chance to fight back. In the end, you can only accept your fate; this damn method just won't work!"

He spoke through gritted teeth, as if he were experiencing again the frustration of "dying full of hope, only to be resurrected in complete bewilderment."

Beside him, Director Zhang remained silent, simply watching with a smile as his nephew, his face beaming and spittle flying, argued animatedly with Ji Zuodao.

Ever since Zhang Quan went blind, he has always put on a brave face, never crying or making a fuss, and even comforting others.

But he spoke less and less each day, and the youthful vibrancy that was unique to young people faded away.

He looked like he was covered in a layer of dust, which made people feel depressed.

Now everything's alright. His eyes are healed, and his energy has returned. He's back to being that talkative, mischievous kid again.

Good.

The gloom in Director Zhang's heart dissipated considerably without him realizing it, and the smile on his lips became much more genuine.

Just then, several cheerful and energetic shouts pierced through the stone wall from afar:

"Dinner's ready!"

"Hurry up! There's meat soup today! If you're late, you won't even get a hot bowl!"

Upon hearing the call to "Dinner's ready," Ji Zuodao's eyes lit up, and his stomach growled.

After all that fuss, from providing warmth to treating eyes, I'm starving.

He followed Director Zhang and his nephew out of the stone house and came to a relatively open space in the center of the camp.

A hundred or so people had gathered in the open space. There were men and women, young and old, dressed in different ways, but most of them looked pale and tired from being trapped for a long time.

However, at this moment, everyone had a relaxed smile on their faces, gathered in twos and threes, each holding a... rectangular soft packaging bag.

Ji Zuodao leaned closer for a look, and wow!

Pre-made meal kits!

It's the cheapest kind, the kind that's on sale at the supermarket, with packaging that says "Curry Chicken Rice" or "Fish-flavored Shredded Pork Rice," and the pictures are so bright they have nothing to do with the actual product.

"I knew it..."

Ji Zuodao suddenly realized and muttered to himself.

"How come the meal was ready in the time it takes to treat my eye? It must be a ready-made meal kit, no wonder it's so fast!"

Scald with boiling water, snip with scissors, and you're done.

Ji Zuodao scratched his head, looked around at his colleagues who were holding takeout meals and eating with obvious relish, and then thought about the 749 Bureau canteen's big pot dishes, which, although not very tasty, were at least freshly stir-fried and stewed...

A deep sense of sympathy welled up in my heart, along with a hint of condemnation towards Deputy Director Liu.

Uncle Liu, you're enjoying a life of luxury outside, yet you send this stuff to your brothers inside?

Can't we get something decent? The food standards have dropped ridiculously low!

Director Zhang seemed to see the doubt and the hint of sympathy in Ji Zuodao's eyes, as if he thought, "You guys are really having a tough time." He walked over, patted him on the shoulder, and said in a rather helpless tone:

"One of the rules here is that food is not allowed on this land."

"what?"

Ji Zuodao paused, then pointed to the colorful plastic bags in the pot: "And these things..."

"We've done experiments."

Director Zhang's expression became even more complicated, as if he were talking about something that even he himself could hardly understand.

"I don't know why, but this brand of ready-made meal kits... are considered 'not food' in this area."

"..."

Ji Zuodao was silent for two seconds, then looked down at the package of "braised pork ribs" in his hand that had just been opened and was suspiciously oily. His expression was indescribable.

"So what exactly is in these bags... that the rules of this godforsaken place are so firm in disqualifying them from being 'food'?"

Is it due to excessive preservatives? Is it due to added flavorings? Or are the ingredients too mysterious?

Think carefully!

Director Zhang shrugged, indicating that they hadn't figured it out either. Anyway, it was edible, filling, and wouldn't spoil, so it was a good thing in this godforsaken place.

Ji Zuodao smacked his lips, but ultimately adhered to the survival philosophy of "a little dirt won't hurt," and plopped down, starting to shovel food into his mouth.

Yes, the taste is just like its packaging, full of the sincerity and perfunctoriness of the industrial age.

However, Ji Zuodao was not picky. He came from a heretical cultivation background and had followed his masters on the mountain in his early years. What hadn't he tried?

This meal kit is at least hot and salty.

However, he didn't let Qiqi touch this thing.

The little girl sat beside her, watching longingly.

Ji Zuodao pricked his fingertip, squeezed out a few drops of dark red blood, and fed them to her lips.

His blood is highly corrosive; if ordinary living things were touched by it, even bone fragments would dissolve.

But Qiqi seemed to have tasted something delicious. She curled her little tongue and licked it clean, and a very faint blush of satisfaction even appeared on her pale face.

If you like it, that's fine.

Ji Zuodao thought to himself, "Anyway, my own child can't eat these meal kits of unknown origin that don't even deserve to be called food."

He was engrossed in dealing with the bag of "what appeared to be braised pork ribs," his cheeks bulging.

suddenly--

A voice, tinged with a casual chuckle, rang out from very close range behind him at a slight angle:

"Oh, eating alone?"

The voice paused, then the laughter deepened, carrying a familiar, mischievous teasing tone:

"Would you like to add an extra pair of bowls and chopsticks?"

Ji Zuodao froze.

The chewing motion stopped instantly.

His knuckles were slightly white from gripping the plastic fork tightly.

Then, very slowly, little by little, he raised his head.

Because of that sound...

Damn it, it was his own voice.