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

"Wait, wait! Pause! Hold on a minute!"

Just as Ji Zuodao raised his spine sword, preparing to give his master a "cool and exhilarating" deluxe meal.

A hand reached out from the side and gripped his wrist tightly.

Ji Zuodao paused, turned his head impatiently, and looked at the inner demon whose face had darkened and whose lips were twitching:

"What are you doing? Busy! Can't you see I'm showing respect to my teacher?"

"..."

The inner demon took a deep breath:

Let me confirm.

"These three people are your masters, right?"

"yes."

Ji Zuodao nodded, looking completely at ease.

"You're the most important person in my heart, aren't you?"

The inner demon pointed at the Third Master on the ground, whose body had seventy-two transparent holes and was missing his head, his finger trembling.

"Are you sure it's not some irreconcilable mortal enemy?"

"What are you saying!"

Upon hearing this, Ji Zuodao's eyebrows furrowed, his expression becoming righteous and awe-inspiring, even carrying a hint of indignation at being insulted:

"These are the teachers who raised me from infancy, changing my diapers and feeding me... well, although they don't seem to have done this kind of delicate work before... but anyway, they are my mentors who taught me and imparted their skills!"

"She must be the most important person in my heart!"

"Boss, please don't make me sound like some kind of unfilial and rebellious disciple."

He rubbed the spine sword on his trouser leg, his tone sincere, his eyes clear:

"I, Ji Zuodao, am famously filial!"

Inner Demon: "..."

It silently lowered its head and looked at its feet.

The head of the Third Master, which had just been kicked away by Ji Zuodao with a bicycle kick, was now rolling to its feet.

He raised his head again and looked at Ji Zuodao's handsome face, which was full of respect for teachers and filial piety.

silent.

Oh shit.

Do you want to listen to what you're saying?

This scene...

Anyone who sees this would have to sincerely praise it—

Master, sect, unfortunately!

"Come on, boss! Don't just stand there!"

Seeing that his inner demons remained unmoved, Ji Zuodao became even more excited, rubbing his hands together, his eyes shining like searchlights, urging him on with anticipation:

"Let's do another round! The last round felt just right! I haven't had enough!"

"Can't the illusion be refreshed? Hurry up! Three masters, replicate it exactly, give me a dozen more!"

The inner demon felt a mouthful of blood stuck in his throat.

Beast!

They're fucking animals!

It has been dealing with inner demons for thousands of years, what kind of perverts hasn't it seen?

It's so abnormal that they're so self-righteous and even think it's "filial piety"...

This is the first one ever!

Filial piety truly brings great power; it can even shatter the heavens!

Its inner demons are almost too much to bear!

"You...you really don't feel...at all pain?"

The inner demon gritted his teeth, struggling to maintain his last shred of professionalism, and pointed at the patch of mosaic on the ground, his voice trembling:

"They are your masters! Your mentors! Like teachers and fathers to you! How...how could you do this?!"

"ha?"

Upon hearing this, Ji Zuodao scratched his head, looking completely bewildered, as if to say, "That's a strange question."

"What are you so reluctant to do?"

He stretched out his foot and casually kicked the third master's head that had rolled to the side.

"Isn't all of this fake?"

"It's an illusion! You yourself said so, boss!"

"Besides..."

He paused, as if remembering something, his expression turning somewhat nostalgic, even carrying a hint of "we used to have such a warm and loving relationship" in his smile:

"You really don't understand the traditions of our mountain."

"this one?"

He pointed to the mess on the ground, then to the sword in his hand, his tone so nonchalant, as if it were nothing out of the ordinary:

"When we're on the mountain, the four of us, master and disciples, would often poke each other around as a form of entertainment to strengthen our bond."

"Today you poke my kidney, tomorrow I'll break your arm, and the day after tomorrow the four of us will get together for a mahjong game. Whoever loses has to hang under the waterfall in the back mountain and be washed by the water for twelve hours before they can come down."

"Isn't this quite normal?"

"A family should be together, all together, in a lively and joyful atmosphere."

"The third master said that this is how proper master and disciple are."

"..."

The inner demons have completely crashed.

It opened its mouth, looked at Ji Zuodao, then looked down at the head and pieces on the ground.

Only one thought remained in my mind, frantically scrolling through the screen, bolding, highlighting, and endlessly looping:

A proper master and disciple relationship?

Can this even be called a proper master and disciple?!

Whose normal master-disciple relationship involves "playing around with each other," "dislocating arms and legs," or "hanging cured meat under a waterfall"?!

Isn't your family's way of having fun a little too hardcore?!

Hell is empty, so the devils are in the sect?!

Ji Zuodao wasn't exaggerating.

Around thirteen or fourteen years old, he had made some progress in his "life cultivation" skills, and his vitality was as strong as wild grass, sprouting new shoots every time he was cut.

From then on, the way his three masters looked at him gradually changed.

That basically means they don't treat him like a human being.

Some of the most secret and eerie things that even a normal master would never dare to teach began to be gradually stuffed into his head.

Take, for example, the method of refining skin.

The first step in self-cultivation is simple and brutal: find a sharp knife, steel your heart, close your eyes, and peel off your skin completely from head to toe.

They euphemistically say: Out with the old, in with the new.

Ji Zuodao understood the principle, but putting it into practice...

Even though he had been toughened up since childhood, he almost fainted from the pain the first time he used the knife, and his hand trembled as if he had touched an electric shock.

The third master squatted down beside him, a blade of grass dangling from his mouth, watching him shiver and offering disdainful comments:

"Tsk, the technique is too rough, the edges are uneven, like a dog chewed it."

Daily practice suddenly changed from meditation and qi cultivation to going through fire and water.

The three chefs were squatting by the oil vat, discussing something.

"Isn't the oil temperature a bit low?"

"Should we add some pickled cabbage next time?"

That's nothing.

What Ji Zuodao remembers most vividly is the sudden slash from his masters.

Sometimes, while practicing, the master would suddenly and cleanly dislocate Ji Zuodao's arm, which he had just started to develop.

He held it in his hand, turning it over and over to examine it, even holding it up to the light to study the cross-section.

Just as Ji Zuodao felt the chill, he looked down and saw that his arm was gone, blood spurting out a long way with a "hiss".

The second master was even more ruthless. Sometimes, when he felt that his training was too lazy and his progress was too slow, he would draw his knife and chop off one of his thighs without saying a word.

Holding the bloodied, severed leg, she pointed it at his nose like a pointer and berated him:

"You little brat! See that? These legs aren't trained properly! Insufficient bone density! Poor tendon strength! Take this home, hang it by your bedside, and look at it three times a day to keep a close eye on yourself!"

What could Ji Zuodao possibly say?

All they could do was silently pick up their freshly burned arms and legs, carry them to the Goddess of the Back Mountain, and see if they could exchange them for some fresh flower cakes, osmanthus cakes, or something similar to soothe their physical and mental wounds.

Of course, the masters didn't just persecute people indiscriminately.

They gave Ji Zuodao a very clear goal that greatly motivated him.

One day, the third master hooked his arm around his neck, reeking of alcohol, and chuckled:

"Kid, when are you going to actually stab us with a knife and a gun, even just to scratch our skin..."

"Plenty of pocket money, but if you can't get it... hehe, more practice."

Since then, "stabbing the master" has become Ji Zuodao's ultimate dream in his cultivation career.

He tried ambushing, drugging, setting traps, and even teaming up with the fox cubs in the back mountains to launch a feint attack.

Unfortunately, the three old men were too cunning and shrewd.

Every time, he would rush in excitedly, only to be defeated and made to suffer extra training, and then be left hanging under the waterfall, making him question his existence.

I've never succeeded even once.

He never received any pocket money, which forced him to steal from his master's secret stash.

So, this time, in the illusion of inner demons, he faced three illusory masters who wouldn't fight back and were completely at his mercy...

Ji Zuodao really did it, thoroughly and thoroughly, and he really got his fill.

Exhilarating.