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

"Kid."

Have you ever killed anyone?

"ha?"

Ji Zuodao squatted in the corner of the Lingtai. Upon hearing this, he twitched the corner of his mouth, pointed to his nose, and spoke with a hint of pride.

"Boss, could you please remove the word '吗'?"

"I, Ji Zuodao, am a legitimate registered heretical cultivator. I was taught by three scoundrels, and my lineage is crooked and wicked."

"He was already wielding a knife and attacking people when he was five years old; he was a local bully."

The inner demon lowered its head, flipping through the files in its hands without even lifting its eyelids, and calmly added, precisely undermining the situation:

"He was stabbing and vomiting, with snot and tears streaming down his face. You were small and weak back then, and the knife was a rusty woodcutter's knife, so dull it could be used as a hammer."

"He slashed at the neck thirty-seven times, each cut reaching the bone, but each cut missed the mark."

"at last……"

The inner demon raised his eyelids, glanced at Ji Zuodao, and was somewhat speechless:

"It was your vomit that smeared that person's face, went down their trachea, and choked them to death. Uh, I mean, their esophagus? Never mind, they choked to death anyway."

Ji Zuo said: "..."

He touched his nose, his eyes darting around for a moment, and muttered to himself:

"Cough...the process isn't important..."

"Yeah, it's really not important."

The inner demon slammed the file shut, crossed his arms again, but his brows furrowed slightly, and a genuine look of doubt appeared in his eyes.

"However, looking at your file... it's quite interesting."

"The people you killed..."

It paused, seemingly considering its words:

"How come they're all the same type, the kind who are notorious criminals, have at least seven or eight lives on their hands, and whose wanted posters have been hanging for three or five years?"

"Do they only target the toughest opponents?"

"Isn't that obvious?"

Ji Zuodao shrugged, his expression one of utter self-assurance, even a hint of disdain that seemed to say, "You don't even understand this?"

"When this kind of person dies outside, the cops will at most put on a show, go through the motions, and might even feel relieved, thinking they've rid society of a scourge."

"Investigate? Investigate my ass! I'd rather he were dead!"

The inner demon glances at Ji Zuodao:

"Have you ever thought about changing your target?"

"For example, killing a few... well, 'good people' in the conventional sense? Ordinary citizens? Innocent bystanders?"

Ji Zuodao curled his lip, his tone becoming even more self-righteous:

"These are good people who didn't do anything to me, and I don't even dislike them. Why would I kill them? Just because I'm bored?"

"But you are an evil cultivator."

The inner demon points out the key points with sharp eyes, trying to seize upon logical loopholes.

"Does this mean that heretical practitioners can indiscriminately kill innocent people? Who decided that?"

Ji Zuodao rolled his eyes and started counting on his fingers:

"I, Ji Zuodao, first tasted meat at five, saw blood at seven, and independently carried out a massacre of an entire family at twelve. I have at least eighty to one hundred dead under my command."

"Isn't this evil enough?"

"Does one have to kill several honest, law-abiding citizens who have never done anything wrong in their lives before they can be called a heretical cultivator?"

"What kind of utter nonsense logic is that!"

Inner Demon: "..."

It opened its mouth, wanting to refute, but found that it seemed to have no way to refute it.

This twisted logic actually sounds quite reasonable.

"Alright, alright, stop!"

The inner demons forcefully steered the conversation back on track.

"The first test of self-examination—"

It draws out the tone, creating a sense of oppression:

"kill."

"It's not about killing one or two people, it's at least... a million."

Seeing Ji Zuodao raise an eyebrow and open his mouth to say something, the Inner Demon immediately interjected, adding:

"Don't worry, I'm not asking you to actually massacre a city or destroy a country. That would be too discordant and have a bad influence."

"I will create an immersive, realistic, and guaranteed to excite you to the point of ecstasy."

"Your test will take place there."

"An illusion?"

Upon hearing this, Ji Zuodao's raised eyebrows fell back down, and he even felt like laughing.

He tilted his head, looked at his inner demon, and teased:

"Boss, you said it was an illusion..."

"Lots of special effects, like a holographic movie..."

"Do you think this thing would be useful to me?"

He pointed to the thick, unyielding greed, anger, ignorance, pride, and doubt within his mind, then to his face, which seemed to scream "I'm utterly wicked," and spoke earnestly:

"A bunch of fake stuff, why would I care?"

"hehe."

Upon hearing this, the inner demon was not angry at all; instead, it let out a low, cold, and mocking laugh.

It leaned slightly forward, and a chilling killing intent, so realistic it seemed to pierce to the bone, suddenly flashed in its dead fish eyes, typical of a civil servant.

The voice was low, yet it carried a seductive, chilling realism:

"false?"

"When your blade slices open the neck of the first living person—"

"Warm blood, with a 'whoosh,' splattered onto your face, scalding hot, sticky, with a rusty, sweet smell."

"When an unarmed old man huddles in a corner, his cloudy old eyes filled with tears of fear, and his throat makes a 'hoarse' sound as he gasps for breath."

"When an innocent toddler, with clear yet empty eyes, opens their mouth, and lets out a desperate cry and scream..."

The inner demon spoke slower and slower, each word like a knife chilled to the bone, gently scraping against Ji Zuodao's eardrums.

"Your heart..."

"Really, you won't feel anything at all?"

"Does your hand holding the knife truly not tremble even the slightest bit?"

"Doesn't your soul suffer repeatedly in the dead of night, tormented by those mutilated limbs, empty eyes, and mournful wails, until it breaks down?"

With each word it utters, it gets one step closer.

The voice was not loud, but every word was piercing, carrying a chill that went straight to the soul.

Ji Zuodao remained silent, simply watching it quietly.

His eyes were calm, even a little bored.

The inner demon felt a little uncomfortable under that gaze, so he coughed lightly, took a half step back, and resumed his businesslike tone.

"In short, that's the process."

Then, with a casual wave of his hand—

"Buzz..."

A slight ripple appeared in the void above Ji Zuodao's spiritual platform.

A globe, slowly rotating, interwoven with azure and earthy yellow, with such exquisite detail that the outlines of every mountain and ocean can be clearly seen, appears out of thin air.

Let's pick a place.

The inner demon's voice returned to its calm tone, even carrying a hint of urging, "Hurry up and don't delay my departure from get off work."

"A dreamlike world needs a stage."

"Choose one that you like."

"or……"

It paused, a cold smile curving its lips:

"Choose one that you think... might be more exciting to kill."

"Can we even choose the location?"

Ji Zuodao's eyes lit up, and he instantly perked up.

"Isn't this the easy mode? You should have said so earlier!"

He leaned close to the globe with its peeling paint, spun his finger around it twice, and then snapped it onto a tiny island nation.

"This is it."

The inner demon also moved closer, squinting at the spot, a hint of doubt on his face:

"Japan? Is there anything special about this place?"

"A remote and impoverished place, a foreign land, where dwarfs and dried fish abound."

"Back then, they even sent envoys to Chang'an to learn from the Tang Dynasty, constantly referring to themselves as the 'Celestial Empire,' adopting a very humble attitude. You chose this place... what's the point? The scenery? The seafood?"

Upon hearing this, Ji Zuodao turned his head, raised an eyebrow, and sized up the inner demon a few times:

"Sir, if I may ask...which dynasty's demon are you from?"

"The Tang Dynasty." The inner demon was inexplicable.

"Oh—" Ji Zuodao drawled, giving a "that's alright then" look.

He patted that spot on the globe.

"At this time, this place is called Japan."

"So what?" The inner demon still didn't understand.

Ji Zuodao was silent for two seconds, then raised his eyes and looked at his inner demon.

Those eyes, which usually held a sly smile, held no intense emotion at this moment, only an extremely calm, even somewhat distant, coldness.

"National and personal vendettas make killing so exhilarating."

His voice was not loud, but every word was clear.

He paused, then slowly added, as if talking to himself, or perhaps explaining:

"Although I wasn't born yet... some things are etched into our spines, passed down from generation to generation, and we can't forget them."

Inner Demon: "National and Personal Hatred?"

It blinked, then blinked again.

As a demon from the Tang Dynasty, it knew little about modern things, at most recognizing some modern objects.

My memory of Japan is still stuck in the stereotype that it was an "overseas vassal state that admired the Celestial Empire and sent envoys to learn from it."

National enmity and personal hatred?

Where is this going?