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

As Delaire gazed at the pure white starlight, a series of images suddenly flashed through his mind.

Eight years ago, we had our first "friendly exchange".

Zhang Yucheng barely managed to block his dark invasion with a rather strenuous Taibai sword aura.

Afterwards, he even politely said, "Your Excellency is very capable, I admire you."

Five years ago, at an academic exchange meeting.

The two "accidentally" faced off at the test site and fought for half an hour, seemingly ending in a draw.

Zhang Yucheng wiped his sweat and laughed, "I'm getting old, I can't keep up with you young people."

Each time, the two sides were evenly matched.

Each time, he narrowly won by half a move.

Each time, Zhang Yucheng would show a complex expression of "luck, lingering fear, and admiration".

De Laier was quite pleased with himself at the time.

Now he understands.

Those expressions conceal the cat's wicked pleasure in deliberately making the mouse think it can escape when it's chasing it.

Looking at Zhang Yucheng's cold face, he saw no trace of relief, no lingering fear, and no admiration.

There's only one kind of "getting tired of the game"...

impatient.

At that moment, Dreyer's heart turned completely cold.

It turns out he had been living in someone else's script all along.

"Damn it..."

A mixture of utter contempt, shame, and madness from desperation overwhelmed his last shred of reason.

"In your eyes...am I just a clown for your amusement?!"

He let out a roar like a trapped beast, and the thick, ink-like dark energy around him no longer maintained its elegant form, but began to surge violently and almost self-destructively!

"Good! Very good!"

Dreyer's eyes were bloodshot, and a grotesque, twisted smile stretched across his face, a mixture of resolute determination and a near-martyrdom-like fanaticism.

"I want you to know..."

"clown……"

"It can even flip over a table!"

Before he finished speaking, he suddenly raised his hands, his ten fingers like hooks, and plunged them fiercely into his own chest!

"Pfft—!"

Amidst the muffled sound of flesh being torn apart, he actually managed to pull out a dark red heart, still slightly pulsating and shrouded in thick black energy, from his own chest!

"Great Death! Hear the prayers of your humblest servant!"

Dreyer's voice became hoarse and high-pitched, carrying a sacrificial piety and madness:

"I draw upon my heart's blood as fuel! I fuel my soul!"

"We beseech you... to descend upon this world!"

"boom--!!"

As if responding to his call, the detached heart suddenly exploded, turning into a cloud of blood mist, but it did not dissipate. Instead, as if it had a life of its own, it quickly outlined a huge, dark shape that exuded endless deathly silence and majesty!

Thick, fresh blood gushed from Dreyer's seven orifices.

His meticulously styled blond hair turned gray and withered in the blink of an eye.

Smooth, firm skin quickly loses moisture and becomes covered with wrinkles, resembling dried old tree bark.

It was as if decades of life force had been drained from him in an instant, turning him from a debonair gentleman into a dried-up corpse that barely maintained a human form.

And behind him—

"Buzz..."

The void trembled, and a deep sigh, as if from the depths of the underworld, echoed.

A majestic phantom, draped in a tattered cloak, wielding a massive scythe, and enveloped in a chilling aura of death, slowly coalesced and materialized from the blood mist and darkness!

The sickle's blade seemed to freeze and dim even the surging white clouds around it.

"Cough... Haha... Hahaha!"

Derek coughed up a mouthful of foul blood mixed with fragments of internal organs, but then grinned, his withered lips emitting a hoarse, grating laugh. His blood-stained finger trembled as he pointed at Zhang Yucheng:

"Come on! Keep up that damn composure!"

"Welcome... the fear of death!"

He hoped, hoping to see shock, solemnity, or even the slightest bit of fear on Zhang Yucheng's face!

however--

Zhang Yucheng glanced at the terrifying phantom of the Grim Reaper, then at the seemingly crazed and dying Derek.

He casually scattered the pure white starlight that had gathered in his palm.

That's it!

It was as casual as blowing out a match.

The last vestige of gentleness that Zhang Yucheng had feigned vanished, replaced by an undisguised, almost bored, disappointment.

"no……"

"You've worked yourself to the bone, and look at yourself like this..."

"The trump card that will flip the table..."

"this one?"

Zhang Yucheng pointed at the phantom of the Grim Reaper, then at Dreyer, his eyes practically overflowing with disdain:

"I thought you'd come up with something new, something big."

"result……"

He paused, seemingly choosing his words carefully, before finally uttering a sentence that made Dreyer's vision go black:

"You gave me a big poop."

"Ugh."

Zhang Yucheng waved his hand listlessly, seemingly having lost even the last bit of interest in "teasing the fool."

"It's boring."

"Forget it, let's finish this quickly, the late-night snacks in the cafeteria are getting cold."

After he finished speaking, he stopped looking at Dreyer's face, which was completely frozen, filled with disbelief and extreme humiliation.

He merely raised his eyes slightly, gazing at the endless dome of the Cloud Tower Palace.

Behind him, the image of Venus appeared serenely amidst the rosy glow of the stars.

He had an air of otherworldly wisdom and a kind, benevolent face.

But Zhang Yucheng didn't even bother to merge with the Dharma Image. He simply raised his right hand and lightly touched the illusory figure of the God of Death that was gathering power.

He chanted, his voice not loud, yet carrying an undeniable authority:

"By the decree of the Supreme Heavenly Emperor, the Greatly Compassionate and Benevolent One—"

"Those who trespass into the Thirty-Six Heavens..."

"cut."

The very moment the word "slash" was uttered.

"Clang clang clang—!!!"

The magnificent and grand sound of metal clanging, as if it were falling from the heavens, resounded throughout the entire Cloud Tower Palace!

Countless golden chains, formed entirely from pure rules and authority, emerged from every corner of the void, instantly binding the death god's phantom, which had just appeared and had not yet had time to "show its divine power," tightly from head to toe!

No matter how the phantom of death struggled or how it invoked the rules of death, the golden chains remained unmoved, instead tightening even more, causing the phantom to dim slightly.

Followed by.

A phantom image of a divine general, clad in golden armor, with blurred features and wielding a guillotine as large as a door panel, materialized beside the Grim Reaper.

The guillotine was raised high, its cold light gleaming, aimed at the neck of Death, which was firmly bound by chains.

De Layle watched all this unfold, his eyes nearly popping out of their sunken sockets, making strange "hoarse" sounds in his throat. He was struck dumb, frozen in place.

"No...it's impossible..."

"This...this is Death...the Grim Reaper...he's great..."

His beliefs, his understanding, the trump card he summoned at the cost of most of his life...

It's like a joke in the face of this simple "edict" and golden chains.

Ji Zuodao, who had witnessed everything from afar, was first stunned, then suddenly realized what was happening and almost burst out laughing.

"Holy crap! So that's how it is!"

He suddenly slapped his thigh, his eyes flashing with an alarming light:

"Director Zhang's move, the Sixth Heaven Cloud Palace, isn't really about the Cloud Palace itself!"

"It's the Sixth Heaven!"

"It is the manifestation of authority from one of the thirty-six heavens of Heaven!"

Ji Zuodao became increasingly amused, clicking his tongue in delight.

"Awesome! That's fucking awesome!"

"Even if that person from Mount Ling arrives at the South Heavenly Gate, they still have to follow the rules and present a formal invitation."

"You're some foreign upstart who popped up out of nowhere, a nobody whose title isn't even on the celestial register, yet you dare to trespass into the Thirty-Six Heavens?"

"If I don't kill you, who will I kill?"

"It's just that their level isn't high enough. Otherwise, they could send them straight to the Execution Platform. That would be much more exciting."

"But this method is pretty shameless..."

He looked at the ghostly figure of Death, bound and unable to move by golden chains, and couldn't help but chuckle:

"First, lure the person into your own sixth-level Heavenly territory, then immediately accuse them of trespassing and execute them according to the ironclad laws of Heaven..."

"This is fucking..."

"Isn't this just entrapment?!"

"hey-hey……"

Ji Zuodao licked his lips, his eyes gleaming with excitement:

"It's ruthless, vicious, and unreasonable!"

"but……"

"I like!"

Just as he was mentally giving it a thumbs up...

Inside the Cloud Tower Palace, the golden-armored divine general's phantom held aloft a guillotine—

It crashed down with a deafening roar!

There was no earth-shattering explosion.

only……

"laugh."

Like a hot knife slicing through cream.

The phantom of death, along with the pervasive aura of death and its dark silhouette, vanished without a trace under the guillotine, like pencil marks erased by an eraser.

Not even a ripple was left.

It's as if it never existed.

Draiel watched helplessly as his trump card, which he had summoned at the cost of everything, burst like a bubble.

He opened his mouth, as if he wanted to say something, to scream, to question.

But in the end, all he did was roll his eyes upwards.

Decisive and efficient.

He completely lost consciousness.

His body went limp and he fell to the ground, kicking up a small cloud of dust.

Like a real, neglected pile of garbage.