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

Wolf froze, then slowly, very slowly, lowered his head.

The "Dreyer" in his arms, who had just been on the verge of death with lifeless eyes, had opened his eyes at some point.

Those eyes were bright and clear; there wasn't a trace of pain or despair in them.

It was all about the undisguised joy and cunning of successfully pulling off a prank.

"Dreyer" even winked playfully at the dumbfounded Wolf.

Then--

"Sizzle."

A sound so faint it was almost inaudible, like the gentle tearing of the finest silk.

Without warning, a thin crack appeared on the handsome but pale face of "Dreyer" between his eyebrows.

Then, as if it had come to life, the crack rapidly spread downwards—

It traced across the bridge of the nose, lips, chin, neck, chest, abdomen... all the way to the soles of the feet.

The whole process was silent and smooth, as smooth as unzipping a tight-fitting garment.

Inside the crack, instead of the expected bloody mess, there was a deep void surging with a viscous, blackish-red light.

Then, under the watchful gaze of Wolf's pupil-like earthquake—

A pale but bony hand emerged from the crack above "Dreyer's" head.

Next was the other hand.

Grasp the edge of the crack with both hands and gently separate it to the sides—

"Pfft."

Like a fledgling hatching from its shell, or a butterfly breaking free from its pupa.

A young man wearing a black stand-up collar uniform and with a bright, almost punchable smile on his face nimbly emerged from the "Dreyer" skin that had already been split in two.

His movements were practiced and his demeanor was composed; he even casually straightened the collar of his uniform.

It was Ji Zuodao.

The ruptured De Lay's body now lay limply on the ground, still warm to the touch.

Ji Zuodao lowered his head, squatted down, and skillfully picked it up. He shook it, and like rolling up a carpet, he carefully and patiently rolled it up from the head, forming a solid leather roll.

Finally, he pulled out the bulging human skin bag from his waist, opened the bag, stuffed the leather scroll inside, and patted it to make sure it was secure.

The entire set of movements was fluid and graceful, exuding a sense of skill and composure.

After doing all this, Ji Zuodao straightened up and patted off non-existent dust from his hands.

Then he looked at Zhang Yucheng and Deputy Director Liu, a bright smile spreading across his face, a smile that seemed to be seeking praise, and his voice was clear and loud:

"Hehe, Uncle Zhang, Uncle Liu!"

"What we just did..."

"Was the acting alright?"

"That crying scene just now, from 'possessed by an evil spirit—painful struggle—desperate death,' the emotional build-up, the pacing, the on-the-spot reactions... wow, I was almost moved to tears myself!"

"I learned a bit from watching Zhengdao's self-directed and self-acted performance."

Zhang Yucheng chuckled and shook his head without saying a word, but the admiration in his eyes was hard to hide.

Deputy Director Liu finally couldn't hold it in and burst out laughing, almost dropping his cigarette.

And Wolff...

Wolf remained frozen in that posture, arms crossed as if embracing something.

But her arms were already empty.

Only a trace of... the body temperature of Derek's skin and Ji Zuodao's unbridled laughter remained in the air.

He slowly, very slowly raised his head.

He looked at Ji Zuodao.

He looked at Zhang Yucheng.

He looked down again and saw that his hands were empty.

Finally, he slowly raised one hand and covered his chest.

It's a bit congested there.

It's a bit stuffy.

There's still a bit...

I feel like vomiting blood.

"puff--!"

Wolf couldn't hold back any longer; a sweet taste rose in his throat, and he actually spat out a mouthful of blood.

The bright red color was dazzling, and a small, pitiful flower bloomed on the clean floor.

He pointed at Ji Zuodao, his finger trembling for a long time, his lips quivering, but he couldn't utter a single word.

Only those eyes were filled with extreme shock and bewilderment, as if their worldview had collapsed, their cognition had been violated, and they were thinking, "What the hell are these monsters and demons?"

Ji Zuodao blinked, looking completely innocent:

"Hey? Grandpa, your mental fortitude isn't what it used to be."

"He vomited blood already?"

After spitting out that mouthful of blood, Wolf felt as if his bones had been removed, and he swayed precariously, only managing to stay upright thanks to the support of the wall beside him.

He raised his hand shakily, his index finger trembling as if he had late-stage Parkinson's disease, and pointed intently at the bulging, still slightly wriggling human skin bag at Ji Zuodao's waist.

His lips trembled for a long time before he managed to squeeze out a few broken syllables from his throat:

"Th-what is that...?"

Wolf's eyes were wide open, bloodshot, and his voice was hoarse, like sandpaper being rubbed together.

"Answer me! What...is in there?!"

Ji Zuodao was waiting for his two uncles' evaluation, and upon hearing this, he raised an eyebrow.

He slowly picked at his ear, his movements so calm and collected, his tone carrying a hint of disdain:

"Tsk, old man..."

Ji Zuodao clicked his tongue and shook his head:

"It seems you not only lack mental fortitude, but your eyesight isn't very good either?"

He patted the human skin pouch at his waist, making a dull "thump-thump" sound, his tone so matter-of-fact that it made you want to punch him:

"Isn't this your nephew's skin?"

"I just took him from your arms, and now you don't recognize him?"

"You can't even recognize your own child? You're not paying attention, are you?"

"...You...you..."

Wolf stammered "you" for a long time, but the rest of his words got stuck in his throat. His face turned from deathly pale to bluish-purple, his chest heaved violently, and his eyes almost popped out of their sockets.

Upon seeing this, Ji Zuodao grinned.

The smile was dazzlingly bright, carrying an undisguised, innocent joy, like a child who had successfully pulled off a prank.

"Hehehe..."

He even laughed out loud, the sound echoing in the empty corridor, sounding particularly eerie.

"Don't worry, old man~"

Ji Zuodao took two steps forward, bent down, and blinked at Wolf's distorted face:

"Your nephew is alright."

"I'm fine~"

He patted his chest, looking completely trustworthy, as if to say, "You can rest assured I can handle things."

"I can't bear to kill him!"

"Such rare material, what a waste to kill it! Such a terrible waste, we'll be punished by heaven!"

Ji Zuodao paused, then lowered his voice, as if sharing some remarkable little secret:

"To be honest, I spent a fortune out of my own pocket to save his reputation!"

"I wouldn't even use the best medicine myself, but I gave it all to your nephew, personally feeding him spoonful by spoonful to keep him alive!"

"You know what..."

Ji Zuodao straightened up, touched his chin, and revealed a look of reminiscence.

"Your nephew is in really good physical condition!"

"When I was skinning them, I screamed... wow, so energetic and full of life!"

"Wow, you can hear it even through three corridors! It's powerful, full-bodied, and expressive... It's definitely good material for a tenor."

He looked at Wolf, his smile growing even brighter, even tinged with a hint of humility:

"So, old man, you really don't need to thank me."

"This is what I should do."