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

Inside the stone house, Zhang Yucheng was howling, while outside, Zhao Shanhe was covered in sweat.

He came to discuss some serious matters with Zhang Yucheng.

But as soon as they reached the door, a series of noises that should never have come from this room, much less from Director Zhang's mouth, filled their ears.

First came a low, muffled groan, which was suppressed but still managed to escape in wisps and strands, almost ethereal.

Immediately following was Ji Zuodao's voice, low and encouraging: "Chief! Hang in there! Almost there! Almost done!"

At the same time, an identical voice chimed in, "Come on, Director Zhang! Take a deep breath! Yes! Don't lose your rhythm!"

The strangest thing was that there was a buzzing vibration in the room.

Zhao Shanhe stood rooted to the spot, his gray eyebrows gradually rising, and a fine layer of sweat quietly seeping from his forehead.

This……

What's going on inside?

He had known Zhang Yucheng for decades, fighting side by side and undermining each other, and he believed he knew his old friend's character inside and out.

But the commotion before him was completely beyond his comprehension.

What's going on? Judging from this...

That old bastard Zhang Yucheng, it seems he's still the one down there?!

The amount of information was so overwhelming that Zhao Shanhe felt his Dao heart was becoming unstable.

Just then, Director Zhang's voice came from inside the room again, but the tone had changed, carrying an overloaded tremor:

"Little Ji... really can't go on... take a break, let your uncle rest for a while..."

"How about... how about we call that old geezer Zhao Shanhe in! Don't let his age fool you, he's got a really strong and resilient body! Let him... let him take over!"

Zhao Shanhe: "..."

His eyes widened, and his mustache stood on end.

What kind of inappropriate language is this?!

And how did that bastard Zhang Yucheng know he was durable?! Could it be...?

A terrible and absurd thought popped into Zhao Shanhe's head, and his face turned green.

Before he could think it through, the weathered wooden door creaked open from the inside.

Zhang Yucheng poked his head out.

The usually dignified and composed director of the Jinghai 749 Bureau was now flushed, his temples were slightly damp, and there was still a trace of indescribable physiological tears in the corners of his eyes and brows. Even his breathing was unusually rapid.

When he saw Zhao Shanhe, his tired eyes suddenly lit up, as if a drowning person had grasped a lifeline.

"Old Zhao? What brings you here? No, you've come at just the right time."

Without saying a word, Zhang Yucheng grabbed Zhao Shanhe's wrist with astonishing force and dragged him into the house.

"Quick! Come in and lend a hand! I can't hold on any longer, let's take over!"

Zhao Shanhe was dragged so far that he almost lost his mind. He desperately tried to pull his hand back while growling in a low voice:

"Zhang Yucheng! Get off me! Get off me! I don't like that kind of thing! Don't you fucking come any closer—!"

The protest was invalid.

"Bang!"

The wooden door closed again under Zhao Shanhe's despairing gaze, isolating the inside from the outside.

After a moment of silence...

"Um--?!!"

A short, startled gasp, as if someone had been choked, escaped from the crack in the door.

Immediately afterwards...

"Ugh...uh...!"

A muffled groan, more suppressed, more bizarre, as if forcibly choked in the throat, broke out intermittently.

The source of that voice... had suddenly become Zhao Shanhe.

If I had to describe it...

It's like an old cat that, due to some unavoidable force, is forced to make a sound that goes against its will...

About an hour later.

The weathered wooden door of the stone house creaked open from the inside.

The brothers Ji Zuodao and Ji Zhengdao strode out one after the other, looking refreshed and invigorated.

Ji Zuodao squinted, his divine sense observing his spiritual sea—

Above the sea of ​​blood, there were dense, dark layers of blood-winged mosquitoes, their wings reaching the sky, their bloodthirsty aura surging and almost bursting forth!

He felt the unprecedented and terrifyingly large "force" and couldn't suppress the wide grin that stretched radiantly behind his head.

Ji Zhengdao followed behind him, a satisfied look on his face. He rubbed his hands together and muttered to himself, "This investment... was spot on!"

Behind them, the wooden door swayed again.

Zhang Yucheng and Zhao Shanhe, supporting each other, moved out with unsteady steps.

The two senior figures, who were usually dignified and composed or otherworldly and sage-like, were now in a completely subversive state of mind.

His clothes were disheveled, his hair was slightly loose, and especially his face, there was a strange flush that had not completely faded after excessive exercise.

If you look closely, there seems to be some lingering sweat on his forehead and temples.

They supported each other, silently catching their breath, their eyes somewhat unfocused, reluctant to make eye contact, the atmosphere subtly awkward.

Just then—

"Uncle! Uncle! Good news!"

An excited voice came from afar, and Zhang Quan, whose eyes shimmered with a faint golden light, ran over with the speed of the wind, his face beaming with the joy of his newly formed Golden Eyes of Truth.

"My first level of the Golden Eyes of Truth... uh?"

Before he could finish speaking, he abruptly stopped, the joy on his face froze instantly, his eyes widened, and his mouth involuntarily opened slowly.

His gaze was fixed on his uncle, and on the old man Zhao Shanhe, who was supporting each other, disheveled and with a flushed face.

Then he glanced at Ji Zuodao and Ji Zhengdao, who looked refreshed and energetic.

This look...

The atmosphere...

This subtle gesture, brimming with boundless imagination...

Zhang Quan's CPU almost overheated from the overwhelming and impactful visuals.

Countless fragmented, indescribable, and even terrifying associations exploded and spliced ​​together in his mind in an instant.

"Holy...holy shit?"

His lips trembled slightly, his gaze sweeping back and forth between his uncle, Old Master Zhao, Ji Zuodao, and Ji Zhengdao, before finally uttering a sigh filled with shock, realization, and a complete shattering of his worldview.

"Uncle! Master Zhao! Brother Ji! What...what is this...?!"

"Could it be that you...?!"

Zhang Quan's earth-shattering conjecture was yet to be uttered—

"Snapped!"

A crisp, loud thud landed precisely on the back of Zhang Quan's head with lightning speed.

The exquisite force and the tricky angle directly interrupted the spellcasting, physically silencing it.

Zhang Quan rolled his eyes, all the subsequent "Holy crap" and guesses stuck in his throat. He swayed, then fell forward cleanly and unconscious.

The world is now peaceful.

Zhao Shanhe slowly withdrew his slightly numb hand, shook it expressionlessly, then turned his head to look at Zhang Yucheng beside him, whose lips were twitching slightly, and asked in a calm tone:

"Phew... You don't mind hitting your nephew, do you?"

Zhang Yucheng looked at his nephew, who lay unconscious and peacefully on the ground, then glanced at the disastrous situation before him. After a two-second silence, he squeezed out three words through gritted teeth:

"Well played."