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

Back at 749, Deputy Director Liu mentioned that they should put on a welcome party to liven things up and ward off bad luck.

As soon as he said it, everyone unanimously declined.

"Why bother with all that fancy stuff?"

An older investigator, biting into a freshly bought roasted sweet potato, winced from the heat and spoke indistinctly:

"Instead of wasting time on this, why not settle our accounts for the past three years' allowances, overtime pay... oh yes, and compensation for emotional distress, and get it settled quickly!"

"Exactly!" someone immediately chimed in, eyes gleaming. "Isn't real money much more exciting than that lousy gala?"

"Absolutely! Three years! Do you know how we survived those three years? Our paychecks were practically growing mushrooms!"

Everyone chimed in with their opinions, and they were all in complete agreement.

A party? Forget it.

Now their only thought is to hurry back to their long-missed, soft beds where they can sink into them completely, and sleep soundly and peacefully until the world ends.

Ideally, I'd wake up one day to find that the past three years were all absurd dreams.

As for why I crave a bed so much...

It's not that the bureau has cut back on bed sheets and blankets over the past three years—the spiritual supplies and daily necessities that should have been issued have not been reduced at all.

But they couldn't stop those wicked, vengeful demons who would pick fights and cause trouble during the days when supplies were being distributed!

The bed sheets and duvet covers, which were perfectly fine, were either scorched with holes by the aftershocks of magic or covered with footprints before they could even be warmed up.

This forced some quick-thinking investigators to eventually use the newly issued bed sheets as capes and battle robes!

Why?

That way, if you "die" in battle, when you are resurrected, you'll be brought back along with the bedsheets!

Looking back on those glorious and eventful years, it's all tears when I try to recount them.

Ji Zuodao followed the crowd and went straight back to his single dormitory.

Once the door was closed, the noise and commotion outside were immediately shut out.

He didn't even bother to take off his brand-new black trench coat. He simply leaned back and sank into the soft bedding, letting out a long, comfortable sigh.

Qiqi followed him in, her little face still a bit sullen. She stood by the bed, not saying a word, just looking at him with her big eyes.

Ji Zuodao tilted his head and glanced at her, immediately understanding that the little girl was still heartbroken over that "inner demon friend".

As soon as she emerged from the light membrane, the inner demon Qiqi transformed into gray spiritual light and returned to the depths of her own spiritual realm.

A brief reunion, followed by another separation.

"Come here." Ji Zuodao beckoned to her, his voice a little muffled.

Qiqi moved over.

"Don't look so down," Ji Zuodao reached out and ruffled her hair. "From now on, your brother will take you to visit that gloomy place every few days. Let your 'mischievous gray brother' lure your friend out to play with you again, okay?"

Qiqi blinked, her dim eyes brightening slightly, and nodded vigorously: "Yes! Thank you, brother!"

Then, she looked at Ji Zuodao lying paralyzed on the bed, thought for a moment, took off her little boots, and climbed onto the bed with a thud. Then she raised her little feet and tentatively stepped on Ji Zuodao's back, one step at a time.

The force wasn't great, but the positioning was quite accurate.

"Well……"

Ji Zuodao let out a comfortable hum, burying his face in the pillow, his voice muffled:

"Qiqi, who taught you this move?"

As Qiqi carefully stepped on the ground, she tilted her head and answered in her childish voice:

"My bad older brother in gray taught me. He said that if I step on it like this, it will make me feel good."

"..."

Ji Zuodao buried his face deeper into the pillow, his shoulders twitching suspiciously twice.

"The right path..." he chuckled softly, "You little bastard... you really understand me."

At this moment, Dog Master strolled in from outside the door, glanced at the scene of "brotherly affection and sisterly respect" on the bed, pursed his lips, and jumped onto the chair next to him, sprawling into a standard dog pancake.

It lifted its eyelids slightly, looked at Ji Zuodao who had his face buried in the pillow, and suddenly spoke, its voice carrying a lazy, teasing tone:

"You brat, this time you really died, didn't you? How did it feel?"

Ji Zuodao's body stiffened almost imperceptibly.

After a while, a muffled sound came from under the pillow:

"I feel terrible."

He paused, his voice lower, carrying a rare hint of candor:

"I thought... I was no longer afraid of death."

He was telling the truth.

The last time I truly felt the threat of death was when those three old, unruly masters tricked me into forcibly opening my acupoints, and I lost control, causing my skull to shatter.

After that, his body was repeatedly tempered and modified by his three masters using various evil methods, and he had long since deviated from the realm of normal people, heading wildly in some inhuman direction.

Even if you cut off his head and kick it like a ball, it wouldn't matter. You could just pick it up and put it back on, and maybe you could even do a bicycle kick.

Death? What is that? Does it taste good?

But this time is different.

Whether facing the bizarre manifestation of Venus, which seemed capable of devouring everything.

At the very last moment, when he ignited his own blood flames and burned everything to attack the Dharma form...

That chilling fear—that life and existence itself are rapidly slipping away and returning to nothingness—is so real, so terrifying.

There's no such thing as being truly fearless of death.

It's just that the knife didn't cut his own neck.

"Oh……"

Dog-Master grinned, revealing an expression that resembled a smile.

"Knowing fear is good."

It shifted to an even more slumped posture and slowly said:

"In this world, there is no one who is truly unafraid of death. Fear is what proves that you are truly alive and have flesh and blood. Those who say they are not afraid are mostly just putting on a brave face. Try putting a knife to their throat and see what happens. They will run away faster than anyone else."

It paused, a complex light flashing in its dog eyes.

"To be honest, your three masters... tsk, they really went too far, stuffing you with all sorts of underworld tricks, turning you into this inhuman, ghost-like creature..."

Dog Master actually had a vague idea in his mind.

Those three old monsters seemed to be trying to force Ji Zuodao onto a "path" they had predetermined.

To use an inappropriate analogy—

They wanted Ji Zuodao to turn into a butterfly, regardless of whether he was a caterpillar or had the qualifications and process to transform into a butterfly.

They took a needle and thread and sewed a pair of wings onto him.

Whether he likes it or not, or whether he can handle it or not.

It has to be done, even if it doesn't work.

only……

Dog Master glanced at the figure lying limp on the bed.

What exactly do they want to turn this brat into? Judging from Ji Zuodao's current methods, it seems he's rushing headlong down the path to immortality.

"You brat, what was that final Dharma form you concocted? I was so busy protecting myself from disaster that I didn't get a good look at it."

Ji Zuodao turned his face slightly from under the pillow, revealing half of one eye filled with confusion:

"Huh? Dharma image? I don't know either... I was so delirious with fever back then, my brain was like mush."

"Qiqi saw it."

Qiqi, who was diligently massaging someone's back, suddenly stopped, her little feet making a clear, crisp sound:

"Qiqi saw it, her brother's image, with his feet... standing on a rotating, red lotus platform."

"What?!"

Ji Zuodao was jolted awake, almost jumping off the bed, which jolted Qi Qi, who was on his back, back down.

He turned his head, glared at Qiqi, then looked at Dog Master, his expression as if he had seen a ghost.

"Lotus... lotus platform?!"

His voice even changed a little.

"Standing on a lotus platform... doesn't that sound like the standard attire for some Buddha or Bodhisattva?!"

He scratched his messy hair, looking on with an incredulous and absurd expression.

"No way? Me? Ji Zuodao? A heretical cultivator! Appearing on a lotus platform? This doesn't look right!"

"Isn't this like a cotton ball popping out of a stinking ditch?!"

"Outrageous! Absolutely outrageous!"