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

Ji Zuodao led several still-shaken college students out of the mountain, stumbling along the way.

After leaving the mountain, we took another taxi, which wound its way through the mountains, and finally stopped in front of a rather impressive-looking office building.

On the side of the building, the gilded characters "Seven Colors Media Co., Ltd." gleamed in the afternoon sun, exuding an air of extravagance.

"Huh? A pansy?"

The girl who had been a little curious about Ji Zuodao earlier suddenly lit up when she saw the signboard, her voice filled with surprise and delight.

"I know this company! Their short dramas are so popular! The special effects are amazing, the plot is captivating, and the acting is superb from the entire cast! Everyone in my dorm is watching them!"

She became more and more excited as she spoke, and even began to imagine the future:

"Hey buddy, did you bring us here because you know someone inside? Could you help me get an autograph? Wait, I'm graduating next year, and I'd love to intern here! I heard the pay is amazing!"

She's already started thinking about sending out resumes.

Upon hearing this, Ji Zuodao's lips twitched almost imperceptibly.

Yes, the benefits are excellent.

After all, some branches have such outstanding revenue-generating capabilities that the revenue they earn from shooting short dramas is sometimes even more substantial than the regular funding allocated by the higher authorities. How could the employees' benefits not be good?

When Bureau 749 first went undercover, using the name "Seven-Colored Violet Media" nationwide, their initial intention was quite simple:

This shell serves as a convenient entry and exit point for personnel and equipment, and provides cover for certain collective actions.

The idea was good, the process was rigorous, and the equipment was top-of-the-line.

But the investigators below were all drama queens whose talents were wasted on supernatural affairs.

They're usually on edge when dealing with incidents, so when they have a rare opportunity to legitimately put on a show, they'll just have a blast.

Screenwriter, director, cinematographer, post-production staff, lead actor... everyone did it part-time, and they were incredibly dedicated to their work.

The results of it?

Inadvertently insert willows and willows.

The short dramas they produced became more and more popular.

Why?

Of course it's strong!

The special effects are truly amazing.

The actors are all real people who have faced life-and-death situations and seen big scenes.

His acting skills may not be academically trained, but the storytelling in his eyes and the energy he exudes are something that can't be learned from within an ivory tower.

That's how they managed to turn their "pretended side hustle" into a top-tier business in the industry.

The company was making a fortune in funding, and it's said that the leaders of the General Administration had quite interesting expressions when they saw the annual financial reports of some branches.

"What are you thinking about?"

Ji Zuodao interrupted the girl's career reverie, pointing with his chin to the gleaming gold signboard, his tone as calm as if he were introducing a neighborhood convenience store:

"This is the department that specifically handles all sorts of unscientific events that you've encountered today, and that you might encounter in the future. Its official name is Bureau 749; you can think of it as a relevant department."

He glanced at the stunned college students and continued:

"In the future, if—and I mean just in the worst-case scenario—you encounter something strange or unusual that science can't quite explain yet, don't try to figure it out yourself, and definitely don't go online for help. Remember, come here, or call their hotline."

"certainly--"

Ji Zuodao changed the subject, adding a hint of warning.

"Don't bother with your trivial matters and self-inflicted fears. They're busy enough as it is, not a place for ghost story seminars."

The bespectacled man listened, completely stunned.

"No... wait, sir, shouldn't this kind of thing be highly confidential with the relevant departments? You're just telling us like this? Aren't you afraid we'll go around spreading rumors?"

"Nonsense?"

Ji Zuodao chuckled and leaned lazily against the nearby telephone pole.

"If you go out now and grab someone and say this is the relevant department, do you think they'll believe you?"

"Most of the time, they think you're all suffering from mushroom poisoning and having wonderful hallucinations, so they suggest you download an anti-fraud app."

Several college students thought for a moment and nodded silently.

If word got out, it would indeed sound like someone who escaped from a mental hospital.

"The reason I'm telling you this is..."

Ji Zuodao toned down his laziness and became more serious.

"It's because statistics show that once an ordinary person is actively or passively involved in a real supernatural event, the probability of them encountering it again in the future is slightly higher than that of an average person."

"In a metaphysical sense, it's called fate; in a scientific sense, it might be that your magnetic field or something has been permanently fine-tuned."

"So this time I'll show you the way—"

"In case, I mean just in case, one day I'm unlucky enough to run into something dirty again, at least I'll know where to run and who to ask for help, and maybe I can save my life."

He pointed to the entrance of "Seven Colors Media".

"This is the right path. Although I hope you will never need to use it."

Several college students stood in front of that impressive office building, their emotions mixed, and remained silent for a long time.

Ji Zuodao led several dazed college students straight into Seven Colors Media.

Behind the reception desk sat a young woman with impeccable makeup and a perfect smile, typing away at her computer.

Ji Zuodao glanced at the layout of the hall and thought to himself, "Whoa!"

The interior design style is not unrelated to the reception hall of the 749th Bureau headquarters in Beijing; in fact, it's exactly the same.

He walked straight to the front desk, and without saying much, he first showed off the inconspicuous badge on his shoulder that insiders would recognize at a glance.

Then I took out my phone, familiarly swiped to open the app whose icon was a glowing pansy, tapped a few times, brought up a dynamically encrypted QR code, and handed it to the scanner.

A soft "beep" sounded, indicating that the verification was successful.

"Jinghai 749, Investigator Ji Zuodao."

He spoke succinctly, casually pointing with his thumb to the few college students huddled behind him like quails.

"These few idiots were tricked into going to the Ailao Mountains by a shady tour guide. The guide was unscrupulous; he kept a few mandrills and almost treated them like a buffet."

He paused, then added:

"Oh, we even ran into a weasel begging for a title on the way down the mountain. Those guys are really unlucky."

Several college students listening behind them blushed and paled in turns, and could only nod and chuckle awkwardly.

The receptionist's professional smile remained unchanged.

Her slender fingers tapped rapidly on the keyboard for a while, she glanced at the screen, then looked up, her voice gentle but her steps clear:

"Okay, Investigator Ji, I've made a preliminary note of the situation. Thank you for bringing them out safely."

"We will immediately arrange for colleagues to take these students to sign the Confidentiality Agreement and make a detailed record of the incident."

"Also, could you please make a brief on-site report? It's mainly for procedural purposes, to complete the event's closure."

Ji Zuodao nodded:

"Okay, I understand the process. Where do I fill it out? Give me the form, or an electronic copy?"

As soon as he finished speaking, a lean man in a suit, who looked like a department manager but whose muscles made the suit look a little strained, strode over.

Holding a tablet and several beautifully printed forms, his face displayed just the right amount of enthusiasm and efficiency.

"Investigator Ji, this way please. There's a fast track. A few of you, please follow me. Let's go to the lounge for a drink to calm down, and then we can work on the documents at our own pace. No rush."

Ji Zuodao took the tablet and glanced at the familiar, headache-inducing standardized electronic forms on it.

With a sigh, I resigned myself to my fate and found a corner seat to start tapping on the screen.

The man politely but firmly led the college students down another passage, and as they walked, they could hear the manager speaking in a tone that sounded like he was comforting children:

"It's alright, it's always like this the first time. Just sign and put your fingerprint on it. Our process is quick here, it won't delay your trip home for the New Year..."

"Hey, student, don't let your hand shake, the inkpad is here..."